Throwing in a Wild Card
by Scififan33
Summary: The end of the war was meant to bring peace, it didn't. To save them all Harry sacrifices everything. He expected an eternity in hell, not an offer from a Goddess.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Do not own HP or DH._

 _I have no clue on pairings for this one so feel free to make suggestions. This has evolved from the chapter in More Worlds to See called Hunting Rome.  
yes, there is a chunk from the Deathly Hallows book in this but there are some alterations. _

**Chapter 1**

Finally, he knew the truth. Lying with his face pressed into the dusty carpet of the office where he had once thought he was learning the secrets of victory, Harry understood at last that he was not supposed to survive. His job was to walk calmly into Death's welcoming arms. Along the way, he was to dispose of Voldemort's remaining links to life, so that when at last he flung himself across Voldemort's path, and did not raise a wand to defend himself, the end would be clean, and the job that ought to have been done in Godric's Hollow would be finished. Neither would live, neither could survive. He really despised Trelawney sometimes for ever opening her mouth. He didn't believe the prophecy, partially because she gave it but also it was far too vague. But his disbelief didn't matter, Dumbledore and Riddle had believed it and arranged his whole life around it.

He felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. How strange that in his dread of death, it pumped all the harder, valiantly keeping him alive. But it would have to stop, and soon. Its beats were numbered. How many would there be time for, as he rose and walked through the castle for the last time, out into the grounds and into the forest?

Terror washed over him as he lay on the floor, with that funeral drum pounding inside him. Would it hurt to die? All those times he had thought that it was about to happen and escaped, he had never really thought of the thing itself: His will to live had always been so much stronger than his fear of death. Yet it did not occur to him now to try to escape, to outrun Voldemort. It was over, he knew it, and all that was left was the thing itself: dying. If his death could save the others then there was no choice.

If he could only have died when he had left Privet Drive for the last time! If he could only have died like Hedwig, so quickly he would not have known it had happened! Or if he could have launched himself in front of a wand to save someone he loved... He envied even his parents' deaths now. This cold-blooded walk to his own destruction would require a different kind of bravery. He felt his fingers trembling slightly and made an effort to control them, although no one could see him; the portraits on the walls were all empty.

Slowly, very slowly, he sat up, and as he did so he felt more alive and more aware of his own living body than ever before. Why had he never appreciated what a miracle he was, brain and nerve and bounding heart? It would all be gone... or at least, he would be gone from it. His breath came slow and deep, and his mouth and throat were completely dry, but so were his eyes.

Dumbledore's betrayal was almost nothing. Of course, there had been a bigger plan: Harry had simply been too foolish to see it, he realized that now. He had never questioned his own assumption that Dumbledore wanted him alive. Now he saw that his life span had always been determined by how long it took to eliminate all the Horcruxes. Dumbledore had passed the job of destroying them to him, and obediently he had continued to chip away at the bonds tying not only Voldemort, but himself, to life! How neat, how elegant, not to waste any more lives, but to give the dangerous task to the boy who had already been marked for slaughter, and whose death would not be a calamity, but another blow against Voldemort. And in that moment, he hated Dumbledore more than he hated Voldemort, he had been raised as a lamb to the slaughter. Had the man even tried to find another way? Or had he just taken the easy way out by planning his death?

And Dumbledore had known that Harry would not duck out, that he would keep going to the end, even though it was his end, because he had taken trouble to get to know him, hadn't he? Dumbledore knew, as Voldemort knew, that Harry would not let anyone else die for him now that he had discovered it was in his power to stop it. The images of Fred, Remus, and Tonks lying dead in the Great Hall forced their way back into his mind's eye, and for a moment he could hardly breathe. Death was impatient...

But Dumbledore had overestimated him. He had failed: The snake survived. One Horcrux remained to bind Voldemort to the earth. True, that would mean an easier job for somebody. He wondered who would do it... Ron and Hermione would know what needed to be done, of course... That would have been why Dumbledore wanted him to confide in two others... so that if he fulfilled his true destiny a little early, they could carry on...

Like rain on a cold window, these thoughts pattered against the hard surface of the incontrovertible truth, which was that he must die. I must die. It must end. He wanted to scream in rage at the Universe, at Fate or God…it wasn't fair, he hadn't asked for this. Why did it have to be him? He was only seventeen…

Ron and Hermione seemed a long way away, he felt as though he had parted from them long ago. There would be no good-byes and no explanations, he was determined of that. This was a journey they could not take together, and the attempts they would make to stop him would waste valuable time. He looked down at the battered gold watch he had received on his seventeenth birthday. Nearly half of the hour allotted by Voldemort for his surrender had elapsed.

He stood up. His heart was leaping against his ribs like a frantic bird. Perhaps it knew it had little time left, perhaps it was determined to fulfil a lifetime's beats before the end. He did not look back as he closed the office door.

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A fire burned in the middle of the clearing, and its flickering light fell over a crowd of completely silent, watchful Death Eaters. Some of them were still masked and hooded; others showed their faces. Two giants sat on the outskirts of the group, casting massive shadows over the scene, their faces cruel, rough-hewn like rock. Harry saw Fenrir, skulking, chewing his long nails; the great blond Rowle was dabbing at his bleeding lip. He saw Lucius Malfoy, who looked defeated and terrified, and Narcissa, whose eyes were sunken and full of apprehension. Not so haughty now, where they? Nothing like the proud couple he'd seen at the World Cup what felt like several lifetimes ago.

Every eye was fixed upon Voldemort, who stood with his head bowed, and his white hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. He might have been praying, or else counting silently in his mind, and Harry, standing still on the edge of the scene, though absurdly of a child counting in a game of hide-and-seek. Behind his head, still swirling and coiling, the great snake Nagini floated in her glittering, charmed cage, like a monstrous halo. Of course, he was keeping her safe, keeping her close, not that he knew about the destruction of all his other Horcruxes. No, he only knew about the cup and diary so far.

When Dolohov and Yaxley re-joined the circle, Voldemort looked up. "No sign of him, my Lord," said Dolohov.

Voldemort's expression did not change. The red eyes seemed to burn in the firelight. Slowly he drew the Elder Wand between his long fingers.

"My Lord." Bellatrix sat closest to Voldemort, dishevelled, her face a little bloody but otherwise unharmed.

Voldemort raised his hand to silence her, and she did not speak another word, but eyed him in worshipful fascination, which made Harry want to gag, did she really find the bald no-nose look attractive? "I thought he would come," said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. "I expected him to come." Nobody spoke. They seemed as scared as Harry, whose heart was now throwing itself against his ribs as though determined to escape the body he was about to cast aside. His hands were sweating as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it beneath his robes, with his wand. He did not want to be tempted to fight. "I was, it seems... mistaken," said Voldemort.

"You weren't." Harry said it as loudly as he could, with all the force he could muster: He did not want to sound afraid. The Resurrection Stone slipped from between his numb fingers, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw his parents, Sirius, and Remus vanish as he stepped forward into the firelight. At that moment, he felt that nobody mattered but Voldemort. It was just the two of them.

The illusion was gone as soon as it had come. The giants roared as the Death Eaters rose together, and there were many cries, gasps, even laughter. Voldemort had frozen where he stood, but his red eyes had found Harry, and he stared as Harry moved toward him, with nothing but the fire between them.

Then a voice yelled: "HARRY! NO!" Hagrid was bound and trussed, tied to a tree nearby. His massive body shook the branches overhead as he struggled, desperate. "NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT'RE YEH DOING?"

"QUIET!" shouted Rowle, and with a flick of his wand, Hagrid was silenced.

Bellatrix, who had leapt to her feet, was looking eagerly from Voldemort to Harry, her breast heaving. The only things that moved were the flames and the snake, coiling and uncoiling in the glittering cage behind Voldemort's head.

Harry could feel his wand against his chest, but he made no attempt to draw it. He knew that the snake was too well protected, knew that if he managed to point the wand at Nagini, fifty curses would hit him first. And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.

"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."

None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his. Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear, he would not shame his parents or any of the others by letting them know how scared he was to die.

He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

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Harry became conscious that he was naked. He lay in a bright mist, though it was not like mist he had ever experienced before. His surroundings were not hidden by cloudy vapour; rather the cloudy vapour had not yet formed into surroundings. The floor on which he lay seemed to be white, neither warm nor cold, but simply there, a flat, blank something on which to be. Was this death? He sat up. His body appeared unscathed. He touched his face. He was not wearing glasses anymore.

Then a noise reached him through the unformed nothingness that surrounded him: the small soft thumping's of something that flapped, flailed, and struggled. It was a pitiful noise, yet also slightly indecent. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was eavesdropping on something furtive, shameful.

For the first time, he wished he were clothed. Barely had the wish formed in his head than robes appeared a short distance away. He took them and pulled them on. They were soft, clean, and warm. It was extraordinary how they had appeared just like that, the moment he had wanted them...

Harry turned slowly on the spot, and his surroundings seemed to invent themselves before his eyes. A wide-open space, bright and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. He was the only person there, except for… He recoiled. He had spotted the thing that was making the noises. It had the form of a small, naked child, curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking, and it lay shuddering under a seat where it had been left, unwanted, stuffed out of sight, struggling for breath. He was afraid of it. Small and fragile and wounded though it was, he did not want to approach it. Nevertheless, he drew slowly nearer, ready to jump back at any moment. Soon he stood near enough to touch it, yet he could not bring himself to do it. He felt like a coward. He ought to comfort it, but it repulsed him.

"You cannot help." He spun around. Albus Dumbledore was walking toward him, sprightly and upright, wearing sweeping robes of midnight blue. "Harry." He spread his arms wide, and his hands were both whole and white and undamaged. "You wonderful boy. You brave, brave man. Let us walk."

Stunned, Harry followed as Dumbledore strode away from where the flayed child lay whimpering, leading him to two seats that Harry had not previously noticed, set some distance away under that high, sparkling ceiling. Dumbledore sat down in one of them, and Harry fell into the other, staring at his old headmaster's face. Dumbledore's long silver hair and beard, the piercingly blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles, the crooked nose: Everything was as he had remembered it. And yet... "But you're dead," said Harry.

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore matter-of-factly.

"Then... I'm dead too?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore, smiling still more broadly. "That is the question, isn't it? On the whole, dear boy, I think not." They looked at each other, the old man still beaming.

"Not?" repeated Harry.

"Not," said Dumbledore.

"But..." Harry raised his hand instinctively toward the lightning scar. It did not seem to be there. "But I should have died I didn't defend myself! I meant to let him kill me!"

"And that," said Dumbledore, "will, I think, have made all the difference." Happiness seemed to radiate from Dumbledore like light; like fire: Harry had never seen the man so utterly, so palpably content.

"Explain," said Harry.

"But you already know," said Dumbledore. He twiddled his thumbs together.

"I let him kill me," said Harry. "Didn't I?"

"You did," said Dumbledore, nodding. "Go on!"

"So, the part of his soul that was in me..." Dumbledore nodded still more enthusiastically, urging Harry onward, a broad smile of encouragement on his face. "... has it gone?"

"Oh yes!" said Dumbledore. "Yes, he destroyed it. Your soul is whole, and completely your own, Harry."

Okay so that was a major relief, he'd felt unclean since learning just what his scar held. "But then..." Harry trembled over his shoulder to where the small, maimed creature trembled under the chair. "What is that, Professor?"

"Something that is beyond either of our help," said Dumbledore.

"But if Voldemort used the Killing Curse," Harry started again, "and nobody died for me this time how can I be alive?"

"I think you know," said Dumbledore. "Think back. Remember what he did, in his ignorance, in his greed and his cruelty."

Harry thought. He let his gaze drift over his surroundings. If it was indeed a palace in which they sat, it was an odd one, with chairs set in little rows and bits of railing here and there, and still, he and Dumbledore and the stunted creatures under the chair were the only beings there. Then the answer rose to his lips easily, without effort. "He took my blood," said Harry.

"Precisely!" said Dumbledore. "He took your blood and rebuilt his living body with it! Your blood in his veins, Harry, Lily's protection inside both of you! He tethered you to life while he lives!"

"I live... while he lives? But I thought... I thought it was the other way around! I thought we both had to die? Or is it the same thing?" He was distracted by the whimpering and thumping of the agonized creature behind them and glanced back at it yet again. "Are you sure we can't do anything?"

"There is no help possible."

"Then explain... more," said Harry, and Dumbledore smiled.

"You were the seventh Horcrux, Harry, the Horcrux he never meant to make. He had rendered his soul so unstable that it broke apart when he committed those acts of unspeakable evil, the murder of your parents, the attempted killing of a child. But what escaped from that room was even less than he knew. He left more than his body behind. He left part of himself latched to you, the would-be victim who had survived. And his knowledge remained woefully incomplete, Harry! That which Voldemort does not value, he takes no trouble to comprehend. Of house-elves and children's tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence, Voldemort knows and understands nothing. Nothing. That they all have a power beyond his own, a power beyond the reach of any magic, is a truth he has never grasped." Dumbledore paused to make sure he was following. "He took your blood believing it would strengthen him. He took into his body a tiny part of the enchantment your mother laid upon you when she died for you. His body keeps her sacrifice alive, and while that enchantment survives, so do you and so does Voldemort's one last hope for himself." Dumbledore smiled at Harry, and Harry stared at him.

"And you knew this? You knew all along?" Harry demanded, his anger at the man coming back.

"I guessed. But my guesses have usually been good," said Dumbledore happily, ignoring his anger, and they sat in silence for what seemed like a long time, while the creature behind them continued to whimper and tremble.

"There's more," said Harry. "There's more to it. Why did my wand break the wand he borrowed?"

"As to that, I cannot be sure."

"Have a guess, then," said Harry, and Dumbledore laughed.

"What you must understand, Harry, is that you and Lord Voldemort have journeyed together into realms of magic hitherto unknown and untested. But here is what I think happened, and it is unprecedented, and no wandmaker could, I think, ever have predicted or explained it to Voldemort. Without meaning to, as you now know, Lord Voldemort doubled the bond between you when he returned to a human form. A part of his soul was still attached to yours, and, thinking to strengthen himself, he took a part of your mother's sacrifice into himself. If he could only have understood the precise and terrible power of that sacrifice, he would not, perhaps, have dared to touch your blood... But then, if he had been able to understand, he could not be Lord Voldemort, and might never have murdered at all." Having ensured this two-fold connection, having wrapped your destinies together more securely than ever two wizards were joined in history, Voldemort proceeded to attack you with a wand that shared a core with yours. And now something very strange happened, as we know. The cores reacted in a way that Lord Voldemort, who never knew that your wand was a twin of his, had ever expected." Dumbledore glanced at the creature and then back at Harry.

"He was more afraid than you were that night, Harry. You had accepted, even embraced, the possibility of death, something Lord Voldemort has never been able to do. Your courage won, your wand overpowered his. And in doing so, something happened between those wands, something that echoed the relationship between their masters. I believe that your wand imbibed some of the power and qualities of Voldemort's wand that night, which is to say that it contained a little of Voldemort himself. So your wand recognized him when he pursued you, recognized a man who was both kin and mortal enemy, and it regurgitated some of his own magic against him, magic much more powerful than anything Lucius's wand had ever performed. Your wand now contained the power of your enormous courage and of Voldemort's own deadly skill: What chance did that poor stick of Lucius Malfoy's stand?"

"But if my wand was so powerful, how come Hermione was able to break it?" asked Harry.

"My dear boy, its remarkable effects were directed only at Voldemort, who had tampered so ill-advisedly with the deepest laws of magic. Only toward him was that wand abnormally powerful. Otherwise it was a wand like any other... though a good one, I am sure," Dumbledore finished kindly.

Harry sat in thought for a long time, or perhaps seconds. It was very hard to be sure of things like time, here. "He killed me with your wand."

"He failed to kill you with my wand," Dumbledore corrected Harry. "I think we can agree that you are not dead though, of course," he added, as if fearing he had been discourteous, "I do not minimize your sufferings, which I am sure were severe."

"I feel great at the moment, though," said Harry, looking down at his clean, unblemished hands, feeling the anger churn at how dismissive Dumbledore was of everything he had gone through. "Where are we, exactly?"

"Well, I was going to ask you that," said Dumbledore, looking around. "Where would you say that we are?"

Until Dumbledore had asked, Harry had not known. Now, however, he found that he had an answer ready to give. "It looks," he said slowly, "like King's Cross station. Except a lo cleaner and empty, and there are no trains as far as I can see."

"King's Cross station!" Dumbledore was chuckling immoderately. "Good gracious, really?"

"Well, where do you think we are?" asked Harry, a little defensively.

"My dear boy, I have no idea. This is, as they say, your party."

Harry had no idea what this meant; Dumbledore was being infuriating. He glared at him, then remembered a much more pressing question than that of their current location. "The Deathly Hallows," he said, and he was glad to see that the words wiped the smile from Dumbledore's face.

"Ah, yes," he said. He even looked a little worried.

"Well?" For the first time since Harry had met Dumbledore, he looked less than an old man, much less. He looked fleetingly like a small boy caught in wrongdoing.

"Can you forgive me?" he said. "Can you forgive me for not trusting you? For not telling you? Harry, I only feared that you would fail as I had failed. I only dreaded that you would make my mistakes. I crave your pardon, Harry. I have known, for some time now, that you are the better man."

"What are you talking about?" asked Harry, startled by Dumbledore's tone, by the sudden tears in his eyes.

"The Hallows, the Hallows," murmured Dumbledore. "A desperate man's dream!"

"But they're real!"

"Real, and dangerous, and a lure for fools," said Dumbledore. "And I was such a fool. But you know, don't you? I have no secrets from you anymore. You know."

"What do I know?"

Dumbledore turned his whole body to face Harry, and tears still sparkled in the brilliantly blue eyes. "Master of death, Harry, master of Death! Was I better, ultimately, then Voldemort?"

His first instinct was to say, 'Of course you were', but he reigned it in to think. "You both have innocent blood on your hands." He finally said. "You said you suspected him at school, yet you did nothing. He should have been stopped long before that stupid prophecy was given. Sirius told me, you had them stunning Death Eaters instead of treating this as war and killing them. Were their second, fourth, tenth chance worth more than the innocents they slaughtered?"

"That is something I have had much time to reflect on recently. I too sought a way to conquer death, Harry." He admitted softly.

"Not the way he did," said Harry. He took a deep breath and sighed. "Hallows, not Horcruxes." At least he had been better than Tom in that.

"Hallows," murmured Dumbledore, "not Horcruxes. Precisely."

There was a pause. The creature behind them whimpered, but Harry no longer looked around. "Grindelwald was looking for them too?" he asked.

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. "It was the thing, above all, that drew us together," he said quietly. "Two clever, arrogant boys with a shared obsession. He wanted to come to Godric's Hollow, as I am sure you have guessed, because of the grave of Ignotus Peverell. He wanted to explore the place the third brother had died."

"So, it's true?" asked Harry. "All of it? The Peverell brothers?"

"Were the three brothers of the tale," said Dumbledore, nodding. "Oh yes, I think so. Whether they met Death on a lonely road... I think it more likely that the Peverell brothers were simply gifted, dangerous wizards who succeeded in creating those powerful objects. The story of them being Death's own Hallows seems to me the sort of legend that might have sprung up around such creations."

"The Cloak, as you know now, travelled down through the ages, father to son, mother to daughter, right down to Ignotus' last living descendant, who was born, as Ignotus was, in the village of Godric's Hollow." Dumbledore smiled at Harry.

"Me?"

"You. You have guessed. I know, why the Cloak was in my possession on the night your parents died. James had showed it to me just a few days previously. It explained much of his undetected wrongdoing at school! I could hardly believe what I was seeing. I asked to borrow it, to examine it. I had long since given up my dream of uniting the Hallows, but I could not resist, could not help taking a closer look... It was a Cloak the likes of which I had never seen, immensely old, perfect in every respect... and then your father died, and I had two Hallows at last, all to myself!" His tone was unbearably bitter.

"The Cloak wouldn't have helped them survive, though," Harry said quickly. "Voldemort knew where my mum and dad were. The Cloak couldn't have made them curse-proof."

"True," sighed Dumbledore. "True."

Harry waited, but Dumbledore did not speak, so he prompted him. "So you'd given up looking for the Hallows when you saw the Cloak?"

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore faintly. It seemed that he forced himself to meet Harry's eyes. "You know what happened. You know. You cannot despise me more than I despise myself."

"But I don't despise you. I'm mad as hell at you, but I don't despise you. "

"Then you should," said Dumbledore. He drew a deep breath. "You know the secret of my sister's ill health, what those Muggles did, what she became. You know how my poor father sought revenge, and paid the price, died In Azkaban. You know how my mother gave up her own life to care for Ariana. I resented it, Harry." Dumbledore stated it baldly, coldly. He was looking now over the top of Harry's head, into the distance. "I was gifted, I was brilliant. I wanted to escape. I wanted to shine. I wanted glory. Do not misunderstand me," he said, and pain crossed the face so that he looked ancient again. "I loved them, I loved my parents, I loved my brother and my sister, but I was selfish, Harry, more selfish than you, who are a remarkably selfless person, could possibly imagine. So that, when my mother died, and I was left the responsibility of a damaged sister and a wayward brother, I returned to my village in anger and bitterness. Trapped and wasted, I thought! And then of course, he came..."

Dumbledore looked directly into Harry's eyes again. "Grindelwald. You cannot imagine how his ideas caught me, Harry, inflamed me. Muggles forced into subservience. We wizards triumphant. Grindelwald and I, the glorious young leaders of the revolution. Oh, I had a few scruples. I assuaged my conscience with empty words. It would all be for the greater good, and any harm done would be repaid a hundredfold in benefits for wizards. Did I know, in my heart of hearts, what Gellert Grindelwald was? I think I did, but I closed my eyes. If the plans we were making came to fruition, all my dreams would come true. And at the heart of our schemes, the Deathly Hallows! How they fascinated him, how they fascinated both of us! The unbeatable wand, the weapon that would lead us to power! The Resurrection Stone to him, though I pretended not to know it, it meant an army of Inferi! To me, I confess, it meant the return of my parents, and the lifting of all responsibility from my shoulders. And the Cloak... somehow, we never discussed the Cloak much, Harry. Both of us could conceal ourselves well enough without the Cloak, the true magic of which, of course, is that it can be used to protect and shield others as well as its owner. I thought that, if we ever found it, it might be useful in hiding Ariana, but our interest in the Cloak was mainly that it completed the trio, for the legend said that the man who had united all three objects would then be truly master of death, which we took to mean 'invincible.'"

"Invincible masters of death, Grindelwald and Dumbledore! Two months of insanity, of cruel dreams, and neglect of the only two members of my family left to me. And then... you know what happened. Reality returned in the form of my rough, unlettered, and infinitely more admirable brother. I did not want to hear the truths he shouted at me. I did not want to hear that I could not set forth and seek Hallows with a fragile and unstable sister in tow. The argument became a fight. Grindelwald lost control. That which I had always sensed in him, though I pretended not to, now sprang into terrible being. And Ariana... after all my mother's care and caution... lay dead upon the floor." Dumbledore gave a little gasp and began to cry in earnest. Harry remained silent and still, honestly a bit disgusted that the man had once considered such things. He'd always been accused of forgiving too easily and yet now his heart felt like stone. "Well, Grindelwald fled, as anyone but I could have predicted. He vanished, with his plans for seizing power, and his schemes for Muggle torture, and his dreams of the Deathly Hallows, dreams in which I had encouraged him and helped him. He ran, while I was left to bury my sister, and learn to live with my guilt and my terrible grief, the price of my shame." Years passed. There were rumours about him. They said he had procured a wand of immense power. I, meanwhile, was offered the post of Minister of Magic, not once, but several times. Naturally, I refused. I had learned that I was not to be trusted with power."

"But you'd have been better, much better, than Fudge or Scimgeour!" burst out Harry. Then again, a rock would be better than Fudge.

"Would I?" asked Dumbledore heavily. "I am not so sure. I had proven, as a very young man, that power was my weakness and my temptation. It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well."

"I was safer at Hogwarts. I think I was a good teacher. But while I busied myself with the training of young wizards, Grindelwald was raising an army. They say he feared me, and perhaps he did, but less, I think, then I feared him. Oh, not death," said Dumbledore, in answer to Harry's questioning look. "Not what he could do to me magically. I knew that we were evenly matched, perhaps that I was a shade more skilful. It was the truth I feared. You see, I never knew which of us, in that last, horrific fight, had actually cast the curse that killed my sister. You may call me cowardly: You would be right, Harry. I dreaded beyond all things the knowledge that it had been I who brought about her death, not merely through my arrogance and stupidity, but that I actually struck the blow that snuffed out her life. I think he knew it, I think he knew what frightened me. I delayed meeting him until finally, it would have been too shameful to resist any longer. People were dying and he seemed unstoppable, and I had to do what I could. Well, you know what happened next. I won the duel. I won the wand."

Another silence. Harry did not ask whether Dumbledore had ever found out who struck Ariana dead. He did not want to know, and even less did he want Dumbledore to have to tell him. At last he knew what Dumbledore would have seen when he looked in the mirror of Erised, and why Dumbledore had been so understanding of the fascination it had exercised over Harry. They sat in silence for a long time, and the whimpering's of the creature behind them barely disturbed Harry anymore. At last he said, "Grindelwald tried to stop Voldemort going after the wand. He lied, you know, pretended he had never had it."

Dumbledore nodded, looking down at his lap, tears still glittering on the crooked nose. "They say he showed remorse in later years, alone in his cell at Nurmengard. I hope that is true. I would like to think that he did feel the horror and shame of what he had done. Perhaps that lie to Voldemort was his attempt to make amends... to prevent Voldemort from taking the Hallow..."

"...or maybe from breaking into your tomb?" suggested Harry, and Dumbledore dabbed his eyes. After another short pause Harry said, "You tried to use the Resurrection Stone."

Dumbledore nodded. "When I discovered it, after all those years, buried in the abandoned home of the Gaunt's, the Hallow I had craved most of all, though in my youth I had wanted it for very different reasons. I lost my head, Harry. I quite forgot that I was not a Horcrux, that the ring was sure to carry a curse. I picked it up, and I put it on, and for a second I imagined that I was about to see Ariana, and my mother, and my father, and to tell them how very, very sorry, I was...I was such a fool, Harry. After all those years I had learned nothing. I was unworthy to unite the Deathly Hallows, I had proved it time and again, and here was final proof."

"Why?" said Harry. "It was natural! You wanted to see them again. What's wrong with that?"

"Maybe a man in a million could unite the Hallows, Harry. I was fit only to possess the meanest of them, the least extraordinary. I was fit to own the Elder Wand, and not boast of it, and not to kill with it. I was permitted to tame and use it, because I took it, not for gain, but to save others from it. But the Cloak, I took out of vain curiosity, and so it could never have worked for me as it works for you, it's true owner. The stone I would have used in an attempt to drag back those who are at peace, rather than enable my self-sacrifice, as you did. You are the worthy possessor of the Hallows." Dumbledore patted Harry's hand, and Harry looked up at the old man and Sighed, he was still mad at him but he could understand more now.

"Why did you have to make it so difficult?"

Dumbledore's smile was tremulous. "I am afraid I counted on Miss Granger to slow you up, Harry. I was afraid that your hot head might dominate your good heart. I was scared that, if presented outright with the facts about those tempting objects, you might seize the Hallows as I did, at the wrong time, for the wrong reasons. If you laid hands on them, I wanted you to possess them safely. You are the true master of death, because the true master does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that he must die, and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying."

"And Voldemort never knew about the Hallows?"

"I do not think so, because he did not recognize the Resurrection Stone he turned into a Horcrux. But even if he had known about them, Harry. I doubt that he would have been interested in any except the first. He would not think that he needed the Cloak, and as for the stone, whom would he want to bring back from the dead? He fears the dead. He does not love."

"But you expected him to go after the wand?"

"I have been sure that he would try, ever since your wand beat Voldemort's in the graveyard of Little Hangleton. At first, he was afraid that you had conquered him by superior skill. Once he had kidnapped Ollivander, however, he discovered the existence of the twin cores. He thought that explained everything. Yet the borrowed wand did no better against yours! So, Voldemort, instead of asking himself what quality it was in you that had made your wand so strong, what gift you possessed that he did not, naturally set out to find the one wand that, they said, would beat any other. For him, the Elder Wand has become an obsession to rival his obsession with you. He believes that the Elder Wand removes his last weakness and makes him truly invincible. Poor Severus..."

"If you planned your death with Snape, you meant him to end up with the Elder Wand, didn't you?"

"I admit that was my intention," said Dumbledore, "but it did not work as I intended, did it?"

"No," said Harry. "That bit didn't work out." The creature behind them jerked and moaned, and Harry and Dumbledore sat without talking for the longest time yet. The realization of what would happen next settled gradually over Harry in the long minutes, like softly falling snow. "I've got to go back, haven't I?"

"That is up to you."

"I've got a choice?" he snorted in disbelief, when did Dumbledore ever give him a real choice?

"Oh yes," Dumbledore smiled at him. "We are in King's Cross you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to... let's say... board a train."

"And where would it take me?"

"On," said Dumbledore simply. Silence again.

"Voldemort's got the Elder Wand."

"True. Voldemort has the Elder Wand."

"But you want me to go back?"

"I think," said Dumbledore, "that if you choose to return, there is a chance that he may be finished for good. I cannot promise it. But I know this, Harry, that you have less to fear from returning here than he does."

Harry glanced again at the raw looking thing that trembled and choked in the shadow beneath the distant chair.

"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and above all, those who live without love. By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart. If that seems to you a worthy goal, they we saw good-bye for the present."

Harry nodded and sighed. Leaving this place would not be nearly as hard as walking into the forest had been, but it was warm and light and peaceful here, and he knew that he was heading back to pain and the fear of more loss. He stood up, and Dumbledore did the same, and they looked for a long moment into each other's faces. "Tell me one last thing," said Harry, "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"

Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry's ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure. "Of course, it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?"

And Harry couldn't help but laugh. Albus Dumbledore, cryptic to the last.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames.

Screams split the dawn, and Neville was a flame, rooted to the spot, unable to move, and Harry could not bear it: He must act - And then many things happened at the same moment. They heard uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounded like hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls and pelted toward the castle, uttering loud war cries. At the same time, Grawp came lumbering around the side of the castle and yelled, "HAGGER!" His cry was answered by roars from Voldemort's giants: They ran at Grawp like bull elephants making the earth quake. Then came hooves and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise. Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak from inside his robes, swung it over himself, and sprang to his feet, as Neville moved too.

In one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon him; the flaming hat fell off him and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle - The slash of the silver blade could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd or the sounds of the clashing giants or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet, it seemed to draw every eye. With a single stroke Neville sliced off the great snake's head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the entrance hall, and Voldemort's mouth was open in a scream of fury that nobody could hear, and the snake's body thudded to the ground at his feet.

Hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry cast a Shield Charm between Neville and Voldemort before the latter could raise his stamps of the battling giants, Hagrid's yell came loudest of all.

"HARRY!" Hagrid shouted. "HARRY? WHERE'S HARRY?" Chaos reigned. The charging centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters, everyone was feeling the giants' stamping feet, and nearer and nearer thundered the reinforcements that had come from who knew where; Harry saw great winged creatures soaring the heads of Voldemort's giants, thestrals and Buckbeak the hippogriff scratching at their eyes while Grawp punched and pummelled them and now the wizards, defenders of Hogwarts and Death Eaters alike were being forced back into the castle. Harry was shooting curses at any Death Eater he could see, and they crumpled, not knowing what or who had hit them, and their bodies were trampled by the retreating crowd. Still hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry was buffered into the entrance hall: He was searching for Voldemort and saw him across the room, firing spells from his wand as he backed into the Great Hall, still screaming instructions to his followers as he sent curses flying left and right; Harry cast more Shield Charms, and Voldemort's would-be victims. Seamus Finnigan and Hannah Abbott, darted past him into the Great Hall, where they joined the fight already flourishing inside it.

And now there were more, even more people storming up the front steps, and Harry saw Charlie Weasley overtaking Horace Slughorn, who was still wearing his emerald pyjamas. They seemed to have returned at the head of what looked like the families and friends of every Hogwarts student who had remained to fight along with the shop keeps and homeowners of Hogsmeade. The centaurs Bane, Ronan and Magorian burst into the hall with a great clatter of hooves, as behind Harry the door that led to the kitchens was blasted off its hinges.

The house-elves of Hogwarts swarmed into the entrance hall, screaming and waving carving knives and cleavers, and at their head, the locket of Regulus Black bouncing on his chest, was Kreacher, his bullfrog's voice audible even above this din: "Fight! Fight! Fight for my Master, defender of house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!" They were hacking and stabbing at the ankles and shim of Death Eaters their tiny faces alive with malice, and everywhere Harry looked Death Eaters were folding under sheer weight of numbers, overcome by spells, dragging arrows from wounds, stabbed in the leg by elves, or else simply attempting to escape, but swallowed by the oncoming horde. It was amazing to see the small beings fighting for the school and he actually paused to watch them before moving on, if only Dobby had lived to see this.

But it was not over yet: Harry sped between duellers and into the Great Hall.

Voldemort was in the centre of the battle, and he was striking and smiting al within reach. Harry could not get a clear shot, but fought his way nearer, still invisible, and the Great Hall became more and more crowded as everyone who could walk forced their way inside.

Harry saw Yaxley slammed to the floor by George and Lee Jordan, saw Dolohov fall with a scream at Flitwick's hands, saw Walden Macnair thrown across the room by Hagrid, hit the stone wall opposite, and slide unconscious, possibly dead, to the ground. He saw Ron and Neville bringing down Fenrir Greyback for good. Aberforth Stunning Rookwood, Arthur and Percy flooring Thicknesse, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy running through the crowd, not even attempting to fight, screaming for their son. He let them go, not even attempting to curse them, Narcissa had helped his deception while playing dead after all.

Voldemort was now duelling McGonagall, Slughorn, Kingsley all at once, and there was a cold hatred in his face as they wove and ducked around him, unable to finish him - Bellatrix was still fighting too, fifty yards away from Voldemort, and like her master she duelled three at once: Hermione, Ginny and Luna, all battling their hardest, but Bellatrix was equal to them, and Harry's attention was diverted as a Killing Curse shot so close to Ginny that she missed death by an inch - He changed course, running at Bellatrix rather than Voldemort, but before he had gone a few steps he was knocked sideways.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" Mrs. Weasley threw off her cloak as she ran, freeing her arms, Bellatrix spun on the spot, roaring with laughter at the sight of the new challenger. "OUT OF MY WAY!" shouted Mrs. Weasley to the three girls, and with a simple swipe of her wand she began to duel. Harry watched with terror and elation as Molly Weasley's wand slashed and twisted, and Bellatrix Lestrange's smile faltered and became a snarl. Jets of light flew from both wands, the floor around the witches' feet became hot and cracked; both woman were fighting to kill. "No!" Mrs. Weasley cried as a few students ran forward, trying to come to her aid. "Get back! Get back! She is mine!"

Hundreds of people now lined the walls, watching the two fights, Voldemort and his three opponents, Bellatrix and Molly, and Harry stood, invisible, torn between both, wanting to attack and yet to protect, unable to be sure that he would not hit the innocent.

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" taunted Bellatrix, as mad as her master, capering as Molly's curses danced around her. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"

"You will never touch our children again!" screamed Mrs. Weasley.

Bellatrix laughed the same exhilarated laugh her cousin Sirius had given as he toppled backward through the veil, and suddenly Harry knew what was going to happen before it did. Molly's curse soared beneath Bellatrix's constricted arm and hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart. Bellatrix's gloating smile froze, her eyes seemed to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.

Harry felt as though he turned into slow motion: he saw McGonagall, Kingsley and Slughorn blasted backward, flailing and writhing through the air, as Voldemort's fury at the fall of his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb, Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley.

"Protego!" roared Harry, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the Hall, and Voldemort stared around for the source as Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak at last.

The yell of shock, the cheers, the screams on every side of: "Harry!"

"HE'S ALIVE!" were stifled at once. The crowd was afraid, and silence fell abruptly and completely as Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and began, at the same moment, to circle each other.

"I don't want anyone else to help," Harry said loudly, and in the total silence his voice carried like a trumpet call. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me." He was the only chance left after the way Riddle had dealt with Kinsley and the others.

Voldemort hissed. "Potter doesn't mean that," he said, his red eyes wide. "This isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"

"Nobody," said Harry simply, utterly calm, outwardly at least. If the prophecy had held any truth it was now fulfilled, meaning the fight could go either way. "There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good..."he smirked at Riddle, egging him on, the angrier he got the sloppier his spell work.

"One of us?" jeered Voldemort, and his whole body was taut and his red eyes stared, a snake that was about to strike. "You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"

"Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?" asked Harry. They were still moving sideways, both of them, in that perfect circle, maintaining the same distance from each other, and for Harry no face existed but Voldemort's. "Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?"

"Accidents!" screamed Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and the watching crowd was frozen as if Petrified, and of the hundreds in the Hall, nobody seemed to breathe but they two. "Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and snivelled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!"

"You know, there's this river in Egypt…." He shook his head. "You won't be killing anyone else tonight," said Harry as they circled, and stared into each other's eyes, green into red. "You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people."

"But you did not!"

"I meant to, and that's what did it. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?" he hadn't noticed it at first but it was obvious now, otherwise the hall would be littered with the dead.

"You dare!"

"Yes, I dare," said Harry. "I know things you don't know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"

Voldemort did not speak, but prowled in a circle, and Harry knew that he kept him temporarily mesmerized at bay, held back by the faintest possibility that Harry might indeed know a final secret... "Is it love again?" said Voldemort, his snake's face jeering. "Dumbledore favourite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like and old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So, what will stop you dying now when I strike?"

"Just one thing," said Harry, and still they circled each other, wrapped in each other, held apart by nothing but the last secret.

"If it is not love that will save you this time," said Voldemort, "you must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?"

"I believe both," said Harry, and he saw shock flit across the snakelike face, though it was instantly dispelled; Voldemort began to laugh, and the sound was more frightening than his screams; humourless and insane, it echoed around the silent Hall.

"You think you know more magic than I do?" he said. "Then I, then Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?"

"Oh, he dreamed of it," said Harry, "but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you've done."

"You mean he was weak!" screamed Voldemort. "Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!"

"No, he was cleverer than you," said Harry, "a better wizard, a better man." No one else needed to know of how he really felt about Dumbledore, it would do no good. And he was better than Riddle, if not by a lot.

"I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!"

"You thought you did," said Harry, "but you were wrong." For the first time, the watching crowd stirred as the hundreds of people around the walls drew breath as one.

"Dumbledore is dead!" Voldemort hurled the words at Harry as in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle, "I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!"

"Yes, Dumbledore is dead," said Harry calmly, "but you didn't have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant."

"What childish dream is this?" said Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and his red eyes did not waver from Harry's.

"Severus Snape wasn't yours," said Harry. "Snape was Dumbledore's. Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?" Voldemort did not answer. They continued to circle each other like wolves about to tear each other apart. "Snape's Patronus was a doe," said Harry, "the same as my mother's, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realized," he said as he saw Voldemort's nostrils flare, "he asked you to spare her life, didn't he?"

"He desired her, that was all," sneered Voldemort, "but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him."

"Of course, he told you that," said Harry, "but he was Dumbledore's spy from the moment you threatened her, and he's been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!" he still wasn't 100% sure what he was saying was true, Snape may have simply desired her for himself, after all he was not a good man, he had card nothing for the man and baby that would die that night, only Lily. He could admit the man had been a brilliant potions master but he was a rotten teacher and human being.

"It matters not!" shrieked Voldemort, who had followed every word with rapt attention, but now let out a cackle of mad laughter. "It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore's, or what petty obstacles they tried to put in my path! I crushed them as I crushed your mother, Snape's supposed great love! Oh, but it all makes sense, Potter, and in ways that you do not understand! Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got there ahead of you, little boy I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it, I understood the truth before you caught up. I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, it did." said Harry. "You're right. But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you to think what you've done... Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle..."

"What is this?"

Of all the things that Harry had said to him, beyond any revelation or taunt, nothing had socked Voldemort like this. Harry saw is pupils contract to thin slits, saw the skin around his eyes whiten. "It's your one last chance," said Harry, "it's all you've got left... I've seen what you'll be otherwise... Be a man... try...try for some remorse..."

"You dare?" said Voldemort again.

"Yes, I dare," said Harry, "because Dumbledore's last plan hasn't backfired on me at all. It's backfired on you, Riddle." Voldemort's hand was trembling on the Elder Wand, and Harry gripped Draco's very tightly. The moment, he knew, was seconds away. "That wand still isn't working properly for you because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore."

"He killed him. "

"Aren't you listening? Snape never beat Dumbledore! Dumbledore's death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die, undefeated, the wand's last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand's power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!"

"But then, Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand!" Voldemort's voice shook with malicious pleasure. "I stole the wand from its last master's tomb! I removed it against the last master's wishes! Its power is mine!"

"You still don't get it, Riddle, do you? Possessing the wand isn't enough! Holding it, using it, doesn't make it really yours. Didn't you listen to Ollivander? The wand chooses the wizard... The Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance..." Voldemort's chest rose and fell rapidly, and Harry could feel the curse coming, feel it building inside the wand pointed at his face. "The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."

Blank shock showed in Voldemort's face for a moment, but then it was gone. "But what does it matter?" he said softly. "Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone... and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy..."

"But you're too late," said Harry. "You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took his wand from him." Harry twitched the hawthorn wand, and he felt the eyes of everyone in the Hall upon it. "So, it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does... I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

A red-glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Voldemort's was suddenly a flaming blur. Harry heard the high voice shriek as he too yelled his best hope to the heavens, pointing Draco's wand:

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The bang was like a cannon blast, and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead centre of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided. Harry saw Voldemort's green jet meet his own spell, saw the Elder Wand fly high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini, spinning through the air toward the master it would not kill, who had come to take full possession of it at last. And Harry, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy's shell.

One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended: and then the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air. The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward him, and the first to reach him were Ron and Hermione, and it was their arms that were wrapped around him, their incomprehensible shouts that deafened him. Then Ginny, Neville, and Luna were there, and then all the Weasley's and Hagrid, and Kingsley and McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout, and Harry could not hear a word that anyone was shouting, not tell whose hands were seizing him, pulling him, trying to hug some part of him, hundreds of them pressing in, all of them determined to touch the Boy Who Lived, the reason it was over at last. The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts, and the Great Hall blazed with life and light.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Since he had last seen it, the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's study had been knocked aside; it stood lopsided, looking a little punch-drunk, and Harry wondered whether it would be able to distinguish passwords anymore.

"Can we go up?" he asked the gargoyle.

"Feel free," groaned the statue.

They clambered over him and onto the spiral stone staircase that moved slowly upward like an escalator. Harry pushed open the door at the top. He had one, brief glimpse of the stone Pensieve on the desk where he had left it, and then an ear-splitting noise made him cry out, thinking of curses and returning Death Eaters and the rebirth of Voldemort.

But it was applause. All around the walls, the headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts were giving him a standing ovation; they waved their hats and in some cases their wigs, they reached through their frames to grip each other's hands; they danced up and down on their chairs in which they have been painted: Dilys Derwent sobbed unashamedly; Dexter Fortescue was waving his ear-trumpet; and Phineas Nigellus called, in his high, reedy voice, "And let it be noted that Slytherin House played its part! Let our contribution not be forgotten!"

But Harry had eyes only for the man who stood in the largest portrait directly behind the headmaster's chair. Tears were sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard, and the pride and the gratitude emanating from him filled Harry with the same balm as phoenix song.

At last, Harry held up his hands, and the portraits fell respectfully silent, beaming and mopping their eyes and waiting eagerly for him to speak. He directed his words at Dumbledore, however, and chose them with enormous care. Exhausted and bleary-eyed though he was, he must make one last effort, one last little bit of theatre to play.

"The thing that was hidden in the Snitch," he began, "I dropped it in the forest. I don't know exactly where, but I'm not going to go looking for it again. Do you agree?" He lied, the Hallows were too dangerous to just leave lying around, especially so close to a school.

"My dear boy, I do," said Dumbledore, while his fellow pictures looked confused and curious. "A wise and courageous decision, but no less than I would have expected of you. Does anyone know else know where it fell?"

"No one," said Harry, and Dumbledore nodded his satisfaction.

"I'm going to keep Ignotus' present, though," said Harry, and Dumbledore beamed.

"But of course, Harry, it is yours forever, until you pass it on!"

"And then there's this." Harry held up the Elder Wand, and Ron and Hermione looked at it with a reverence that, even in his befuddled and sleep-deprived state, Harry did not like to see. "I don't want it." said Harry.

"What?" said Ron loudly. "Are you mental?"

"I know it's powerful," said Harry wearily. "But I was happier with mine. So..." He rummaged in the pouch hung around his neck, and pulled out the two halves of holly still just connected by the finest threat of phoenix feather. Hermione had said that they could not be repaired, that the damage was too severe. All he knew was that if this did not work, nothing would. He laid the broken wand upon the headmaster's desk, touched it with the very tip of the Elder Wand, and said, "Reparo." As his wand resealed, red sparks flew out of its end. Harry knew that he had succeeded. He picked up the holly and phoenix wand and felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, as though wand and hand were rejoicing at their reunion. "I'm putting the Elder Wand," he told Dumbledore, who was watching him with enormous affection and admiration, "back where it came from. It can stay there. If I die a natural death like Ignotus, its power will be broken, won't it? The previous master will never have been defeated. That'll be the end of it."

Dumbledore nodded. They smiled at each other.

"Are you sure?" said Ron. There was the faintest trace of longing in his voice as he looked at the Elder Wand.

"I think Harry's right," said Hermione quietly.

"That wand's more trouble than it's worth." said Harry. "And quite honestly," he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."

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Harry bent down and picked up the stone, putting it in his pocket with the wand before returning to the castle, hidden beneath his cloak. He would ensure the Hallows remained safe and hidden, no one else would die over them. The world didn't need such power. Thankfully the dorms were undamaged as no one had wanted to return home yet. Clean clothes had been found for those who needed it and Harry had spent over an hour soaking in the Prefects bath, who knew dying and coming back would make him ache so much.

He didn't feel bad about lying to Dumbledore's portrait at all. So much pain could have been avoided if he had acted sooner or not held his cards so close, even from allies.

Maybe it was time to give magic a break for a while. Convince the others they deserved a holiday somewhere nice, warm and sunny. The Caribbean sounded good.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry sat leaning against a wall, sword at his side. He glanced at the blade and sighed before picking it up and using a rag to carefully remove the black blood. How had this become his life? They were meant to live happily and in peace once Riddle was gone for good. It had lasted all of three months and three years later he could still smell the burnt flesh…. hear their screams as the Burrow burned. He looked up as Hermione sat opposite him and began disassembling and cleaning her shotgun. She had changed so much since then, her hair cut short, worn military styled clothes, 'muggle' weapons…. there was very little left of the wide-eyed bookworm anymore. Her parent's deaths in Australia had helped the metamorphosis. She had taken their memories and sent them away to be safe… only for them to die when two thirds of the country was wiped out. Then again, he had changed a lot too, his messy black hair tamed by length and tied back, eyes cured by a mixture of muggle and magical means, no longer a scrawny seventeen-year-old but now well-muscled and fitter than ever, a side effect from fighting with a sword and occasionally heavier weaponry nearly non-stop. The hand-me-downs from his cousin were long gown, now he favoured dragon hide for the extra protection mixed in with bits of the military style most wore. "Anything?"

"No." She put the now clean weapon into the holster where it shrank to fit. "It looks like the portals have become self-sustaining, no more summoners needed so no one to send us after." She took a sip form her canteen and tossed it to him so he could drink.

"And we still don't know how to shut the damn things down." He sighed and let his head fall back against the wall. Last count they were up to thirteen portals, who knew how many more had appeared now. He absently played with the ring on his finger, the Potter crest etched in rubies. What no one could see was the second ring, merged into it, the perfect hiding place for the Resurrection Stone for as long as he lived. After Ginny's death, it had been so tempting to use it but he had resisted. Looking back at that day in the forest, he wasn't sure it was what it said it was. What parent in their right mind encouraged their child to walk to their death? Not that it mattered anymore, he'd survived in the end. He always survived.

"We're losing." She whispered and his eyes opened in shock to stare at her. He'd never heard her lose hope before, even when Ron had died she had kept fighting to win.

"Mione…."

"No Harry, facts are facts. We have finite numbers, they don't. We need sleep, food, water, they don't. A blind man can see that sooner or later they will win, either by killing us all or we all die because the planet is. I don't mind anymore, we'll be with everyone again." She smiled sadly.

They were all that was left of the DA anymore. He thought some of the Ministry or Hogwarts staff might be around still, stationed elsewhere. Magicals had been targeted first as the greater threat so those still left had been spread out to keep them from easily being wiped out. Their partnership was allowed only because they'd proven an unbeatable team. She crawled to his side and curled into him, his arm wrapping around her immediately. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

"For what?"

"Not saving the world."

"You saved it once Harry, that's more than anyone else can claim." She argued and he grimaced but nodded.

"I've got watch, get some sleep." He murmured and he remained still as she slipped into a light sleep, ready to wake at the slightest change. No one slept deeply anymore.

He knew she was right, this wasn't his fault, he had fulfilled the Prophecy and destroyed Riddle, he'd even managed to come back from the dead to do it. And he'd done as expected of him, joined the Auror's, become a Hit Wizard, asked Ginny to marry him and then a report had come in from Malaysia…some idiot had decided to summon a demon. He'd been part of the team sent, after all he had been the equal of the most feared Dark Lord and everyone knew he was scary powerful…he'd been one of three survivors from that international team. Three weeks later the Burrow had burned with Mr and Mrs Weasley, Percy and Ginny inside. The entire town had been destroyed by fire that resisted all magical means of extinguishing. The fires had burnt every magical village to the ground, anywhere were more than five magicals congregated. Hogwarts, Durmstrang, a handful of the really old magical schools had survived and become refuges. They were centred on ley lines and that gave them extra protection. But in the end even that had not been enough to save them. Ron, Luna, Neville….so many had died defending the schools from the hordes and they had died for nothing. The world had gone from somewhere around 5 billion to a million, if they were lucky in only a few years…not that he had any idea what year it was anymore. He'd stopped keeping track maybe six months in. All he knew was normal had ended in December 1997. Thinking about it, he thought he was about twenty so…welcome to the new millennia.

He woke Hermione a few hours later and settled in to get some sleep himself.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry spun and ducked before lunging, his blade sliding between scales and then he turned to face the next threat. Black hair was plastered to his face and neck as he breathed heavily, magic sizzling under his skin. They'd been fighting for almost an hour now and they just kept coming. They had to keep fighting, had to win or the twenty-people hidden in the bunker would die. He snarled and sent out a blast of pure magic, frying two of the demons before hacking the head off a third. He heard Hermione curse and fire a shot before feeling her magic flare nearby. They'd lost sight of each other a while ago which he really didn't like but no matter what he tried he couldn't get to her.

His world ended as he heard a choked off cry and then all sense of Hermione vanished. "NO!" He screamed and his magic exploded, killing everything within thirty feet, leaving him to slump to the ground, core exhausted.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry stared at the tattered map, face blank as the talking continued. They'd finally figured out how to close the portals…they had to take out the main one and all the others should close after it. The problem was the method required to close it. "I'll do it." He finally said, annoyed by their arguing.

"No way." Gary snapped. "You're the last really powerful magical we've got. You're needed."

"They just said the more power the better to close these things. That makes me the best choice."

"Harry…do you realise what you're offering?" Gabrielle Delacour asked, her English far better than her sister had ever had the chance to get.

He actually managed a slight smile for the young woman he had once pulled from the lake. "I know." He would be trapped on the other side of the closed portals, if the process didn't kill him.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry ignored the battles around him, focused solely on his goal. Hermione's shotgun in one hand and sword in the other he fought his way to ground zero. He looked at the tear in reality, able to feel the evil…. the wrongness of it. He removed the charged crystals and quickly placed them, activating them before looking back over the battlefield. He could see explosions from artillery, a few spells flying, the sound of various weapons, the screams of the dying… he almost smiled as he spotted Gabrielle transformed into harpy form, hurling fireballs. Harry turned back to the portal as the crystals all turned gold and took a deep breath before stepping forward.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

The battle field became eerily quiet and Gabrielle turned to see the portal pulsating. He'd done it then, he'd made it and placed the crystals. The demons began shrieking and trying to run even as the pulsating picked up speed. "Fall back!" She screamed into the comms, turning and running as fast as she could. She heard an enormous boom and then was picked up and flung along with the shockwave.

When she woke she forced herself to her knees, ignoring the pain to look around. There was nothing as far as the eye could see, no portal or demons… just the stunned and injured people and their dead. She staggered up and wiped at her face to find she was crying. Harry had done it, he'd saved them all one last time. "Merci Harry." She whispered before turning to begin helping the others.

 _TBC…._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Not mine_

 _Thanks for the reviews on ffnet, does no one at archive have anything to say? Still need ideas for Harry's permanent pairing._

 **Chapter 2**

It was warm…comforting…. light…. almost like…. Harry blinked, forcing himself to focus as he found himself in a land of warm, light mist…but this time King's Cross Station was missing. After what felt like an eternity the mist began to clear to reveal tall marble columns that reminded him of a temple he had seen near Athens early in the war. But why would he be seeing a Greek Temple? He'd…. he'd walked into a portal to some sort of hell and this was nothing like he had excepted.

Gentle, feminie laughter sounded and Harry turned to find a woman approaching through the remaining mist. She was beautiful with long black hair and green eyes, pale skin but also tall, he'd guess near to 6 feet. She was dressed all in white in what he was pretty sure was called a Peplos, if he was remembering his history right. Although as she moved he noticed silver stitching along the edges that reminded him of runes. "Welcome Harry Potter."

"Who are you? Where are we?"

"We are in-between. I am Hecate, Goddess of Magic, Crossroads and Necromancy. Daughter of Titans." With a wave of her hand two elegant chairs with a curved backrest and legs appeared. She sat on one and waited until Harry had cautiously seated himself as well.

"I didn't know the gods really exist, everyone said they were just really powerful magic users."

"In your world, they were." She answered with a small smile and Harry blinked. 

"My world?"

"Indeed. The moment you stepped into the portal you left your world. Had I not managed to intercept you mid-way you would be where you had expected to end up."

"Not that I'm not grateful to not be in hell or something but why? There is no way you did this without wanting something in return. I'm betting this took a good amount of power."

"It did, although being a Goddess of crossroads and entrance ways made it easier than it could have been. Plus, I had the permission of those in charge of your world and that also helped. And you are correct, I am in need of your assistance. However, if you decline my request there will be no consequences, you will simple pass on as if you had died normally. Although I believe you know your death would not be easy." She glanced down at where the ring sat on his finger.

"What do you need me for?"

"You are not well versed on Greek mythology, are you?"

"Not particularly."

"Then I shall explain. The primal Source is the essence of the universe. It is not another god or immortal. It is unknown what created the Source. The balance or flow of the Source is very delicate and, should it be disrupted, it could destroy the universe. That is why a god's powers flow back into the Source after death. All gods' powers come from the Source but only Source gods can manipulate it. Source gods are capable of tapping into and manipulating the power of the primal Source. The first six gods born from the primal Source are called primary gods. Three were of the Light, called the Kalosum, and three were of the Dark, called Mavromino. Noir and Azura live in Azmodea, but the whereabouts of the other four are a closely held secret. Some believe that the missing primary gods hide in plain sight as other gods. Are you following?"

"Yes ma'am." She was far more interesting than Binns had ever been.

"In the beginning, the world was made of beauty and of magick. Before there were humans, there were gods and those who served them. At war with each other, they fought until a new breed was born out of their senseless violence. Chthonians, these new creatures came from the earth that flowed red with the blood of the gods. The Chthonians rose up and divided the world between the gods—they split the world between themselves. To maintain the peace, the soldiers of the gods were ordered to be put down. None were to survive. Chthonian law took precedent and together, they were able to bring peace to the world once more and to protect the new life form of mankind. But the Chthonians were not without corruption. Nor were they infallible. It wasn't long before they bickered too. Chthonians are considered mortal gods who are bestowed with the power to kill gods and sending their power back to the primal Source without disrupting the balance of the universe. Chthonians respond and draw their power from the primary Source. Their powers rival or even surpass gods. While an average Chthonians powers are unknown, their unrestricted powers can easily incapacitate even a small group of gods."

"Okay so really scary guys." Harry swallowed, this made Tom sound like a harmless puppy.

"Then there are the Sephirii. Guardians and consorts of the first order of gods, the Sephirii were soldiers who enforced the original laws of the universe. During the Primus Bellum, the Mavromino turned against the Source and tried to end all creation, so the Sephirii were unleashed to kill him. In turn, the Mavromino created the Malachai to bring down the Sephirii. Most of the Sephirii flew into traps, but enough survived to declare war on the Malachai and would have destroyed them if not for the betrayal of their leader Jared. When the Primus Bellum finally ended in a truce, all the Sephirii and Malachai were supposed to be executed, but Jared's life was spared so he could suffer an eternity of slavery and torture as punishment for his crime. Because the universe requires balance, the survival of Jared allowed a Malachai to escape as well. Due to their nature as guardians of the gods, they cannot harm any Source-borns, such as gods, unless they have declared intention to upset the order of the Source, such as Malachai."

Harry winced at that, he understood betrayal very well. And he was getting really worried what this favour may be.

"Now we come to events of what you would call 9548 B.C."

"That's almost 12 000 years ago! I didn't think much was happening back then."

"Not in your world, and many humans in this world believe as you do. This was the time of Atlantis and the Atlantean gods. Although we were also there. In fact, there has been some relationships across Pantheons. In fact, Archon, the King of the Atlantean Pantheon, and Themis, the Greek Goddess of Justice, are the parents of the Moirae or as you may have heard them called, the Fates."

"Okay…"

"They were the favoured children of Archon until his wife Apollymi became pregnant with a son, Apostolos. Out of fear of being replaced, they cursed their half-brother. They came to their father, holding hands, and, afraid that their new half-brother Apostolos would deprive them of their father's affections, spoke that Apostolos would be the death of the Atlantean pantheon. No sooner had the prophecy been uttered than almost every other Atlantean god demanded the death of the unborn baby."

"And I thought I had issues with fate." Harry whispered and she smiled sadly.

"Unwilling to sacrifice her baby, Apollymi fled to her birth home of Kalosis, the Atlantean hell realm, where she knew the others wouldn't follow, with her niece Basi and her Charonte demons. Apollymi cut Apostolos out of her stomach, extracted his godhood, and had Basi place him in the womb of a pregnant queen, merging Apostolos' life force with that of the human queen's child, ensuring Apostolos' safety."

Harry felt horrible for Apollymi. She reminded him of his own mother, who had refused to stand aside and was killed protecting him.

"The queen chosen was Queen Aara of Didymos. She gave birth to Apostolos and another son as twins. However, when his human mother saw his eyes, which were of a swirling mercurial colour, an oracle came forward, declaring that Apostolos would be the death of them all: "None will be safe from his wrath." She then informed them of the twins' connected life forces. King Xerxes accused Aara of being unfaithful. When both his mother and father refused to acknowledge him, the oracle named him "Acheron" for the river of the underworld representing sorrow. 'Then he shall be named Acheron, for the river of woe. Like the river of the Underworld, his journey will be long, dark, and enduring. He will be able to give life and to take it. He will travel through life alone and abandoned, ever seeking kindness and ever finding cruelty. May the gods have mercy on you, little one. No one else ever will.'" She quoted the long-ago oracle."

"How could anyone treat a baby like that?"

"Legitimacy was very important to ancient rulers." She reminded him. "I will not speak of his childhood as that is not vital to this and he deserves to keep his privacy."

"Of course, I know what that's like."

"When he was grown Acheron met Artemis in her Temple. Eventually his sister, Ryssa came to Apollo's attention and became his mistress. Many years before this Apollo had created his own race of beings, wanting to prove to Zeus that humans could be improved. So, he created children with a nymph and they possessed improved senses, acute hearing, strength, beauty, psychic ability, and superior intellect. Zeus confined them to Atlantis to keep humanity safe. The Apollite Queen was jealous of Ryssa and her son and sent Apollites to kill them. That same night Artemis drugged Acheron and so he could do nothing but listen as his sister and nephew were slaughtered. the very next day Artemis watched as Apollo gutted Acheron because of his anger for his mistress and son's brutal murder." She whispered and Harry hissed in anger. "With his death Apollymi was free and she laid waste to all before her in her agony at her son's death. The Fates told Artemis to bring Acheron back from the dead to prevent the wrath of Apollymi from destroying them all. Among them, only Artemis had the power to bring him back because she had his blood in her. She tricked him into drinking her blood, thus resurrecting him."

"Those…." Harry took a deep breath. "No offence but I'd really like to gut Apollo and Artemis." He spat and she laughed.

"You are not the only one. The attack on Ryssa was made to look like wild animals but it did not fool Apollo obviously. Apollo planned to kill all the Apollites, but he stopped their complete destruction upon his sister Artemis' urging. Since the Apollites were created of his own flesh and blood, he too would be slain. His god powers would then be unleashed on the world, which would destroy it. Rather than killing them, Apollo cursed his people threefold: Because they made it appear that an animal had killed his mistress and son, they would have to feed off each other's blood in order to live, thus were given fangs and the eyes of a predator; They could never again walk in his daylight realm; and on their twenty-seventh birthday, the age his Ryssa died, they would all disintegrate slowly and painfully over a twenty-four-hour period until they were dust."

"He's a monster! How could he do that to his own children? They're still cursed, aren't they?"

"Yes. And it had led to a very large problem. There is a way for them to survive past 27. In order to extend their life cycle and avoid an unbearably torturous death that culminates in their bodies slowly turning to dust, they choose to siphon human souls. However, a human soul starts to die as soon as it is eaten by the Daimon, causing them to replenish every few weeks. Once the human soul dies it is forever gone."

Harry swore in several languages. "So, in his anger Apollo screwed the whole world."

"Almost. At first, only Acheron hunted the Daimons as they were no threat to him. But then Artemis decided he needed help. Whenever someone is wronged and dying from an act of betrayal or brutal treachery, their soul makes a scream that echoes through the mountains of Olympus. When Artemis hears that sound, she goes to the one who made it and makes a pact. For a single Act of Vengeance against the ones who wronged the dying party, they will swear their fealty to her service and will spend the rest of eternity hunting down and slaying the Daimon menace. Because each Dark-Hunter is so different, they have different powers, these psychic abilities and physical powers hinge on what they were in their lives. The only thing the Dark-Hunters have in common is that they all have fangs, and almost all of them have black eyes. They also have a bow-and-arrow mark on the spot where Artemis took their souls."

"How horrible. She comes when they are at their weakest and uses them."

"Indeed." She went on to explain Were-Hunters, Dream-Hunters and the rest and he listened, taking it all in.

"Where do I fit in?"

"I wish for you to join this world Harry Potter, Master of Death. It will be a time very different to your own but I will ensure you have what you need. The future the Fates have woven is very grim for many and so I wish to throw in a…wild card of sort."

"Me."

"You. Your powers will be unlike others, although it may also change to adapt to the new world. You are the Master of Death and that cannot be changed. And you will be my son, a child of Sorcery and Death. I will give you no orders although I shall offer guidance when asked. I may be a member of the Olympian Pantheon now, but I am also a Titan, daughter of Destruction and Night." She reached out to gently touch his cheek and Harry closed his eyes, it felt much like he had always imagined his Mother's touch would. "Will you help save another world Harry Potter?"

"Yes." He whispered and she smiled.

 _TBC…._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Not mine_

 _Okay, so I recently re-read Fantasy Lover and Night Pleasures and I can't fit the info provided into the real history. Julian mentions a Queen braiding his hair while he's fighting for Macedon…I found only Kings. There is a mention of Kyrian fighting in the name of Andriscus which means the Fourth Macedonian War. And since this is an alternate world to Harry's I'm going on events being different to history._

 **Chapter 3**

Harry woke slowly, enjoying the warmth of the sun through his window…. he bolted upright in alarm and looked around. This was no bunker! He scrambled out of bed and over to the window, looking out in shock at the rolling country side. And then he glanced down, realising he was naked. He looked back to the bed to find it looked more like an ancient couch. He spotted a chest and knelt to open it, finding what he hoped was clothing but also a note.

 _To my son,_

 _To ensure your place I have given you this home in Athens where you are considered a citizen. It is up to you whether or not you are publicly claimed as my son Harry, I do not seek to replace your birth parents but anyone who can tell such things will recognise you as a demigod. By the modern calendars reckoning the year is 160BC. There will be much for you to learn and I have ensured the appropriate lessons are available. I have ensured you can speak and write Greek already. The name of Harry Potter must be left behind until time catches up to such things. I have chosen the name Chares for you which means grace or kindness as well as Soter, which means saviour. Depending on the life you chose to live you may gain other titles over time. Take the time to learn this world and how your powers have changed._

 _Be careful my child, live well and be free._

 _Your Mother,_

 _Hecate_

And now he remembered their conversation in the place in between and just what he had agreed too. Demigod…that was a new one even for him. He resealed the note and hid it before pulling out a wide rectangular tube of bright blue wool…yeah, this was going to be fun. He looked up as the door opened and a young man entered.

"Is everything to your liking Master?"

Harry….no Chares now, straightened, holding the material to keep his modesty. "Everything is fine Clitus." It seemed she'd given him a bit more than the language.

Clitus walked over and took the fabric, settling it over Chares' body and securely fastening it. "Would you like a Himation, Master? Or will you need a Chlamys to wear out?"

"I'll be staying at home today. I have some reading to do." He managed a smile and Clitus nodded.

"Your breakfast is ready Master."

"Thank you." Chares watched Clitus retreat from the room and took a deep breath. He could do this, he had to do this. He left the room and found a staircase so he went down to find himself in an open courtyard. He smiled as he saw the two small shrines, instantly recognising Hecate's by the feel coming from it. A quick glance around and he entered the room that held small tables and some sort of couches beside them. He moved to the one with food and was about to sit when he spotted a vase with a painting of the same room, the occupants reclining on the couches. He really needed to hurry up and get to studying before he messed up! The food was quite nice, though very different to British food or rations. Once he had eaten he moved off to explore the house. The view from another window looked out onto the city, so that was what Athens looked like. He found six rooms in total around the edge of the courtyard, including the kitchen and what appeared to be the slave quarters. Thankfully there was a bathroom, though he would miss actual indoor plumbing, perhaps he could do something about that later. He had after all been chosen to change things.

He settled in a large front room with a desk and shelves of scrolls, even he knew bound books didn't exist yet. There was a set of numbered scrolls so he picked up number 1 and began to read up on everything he needed to know. Though it was a relief to see his sword hanging on the wall. Nearby a set of armour was displayed along with a shield, spear and another sword. Though right off was a note that he couldn't use the sword until it was invented, he would have to settle for hoplite armour and weapons, no more dragonhide. It explained the spear was called a doru, the shield an aspis, and the sword a xiphos and then went on to explain the parts of the armour. Taking in the muscle cuirass, greaves and helmet he was very underwhelmed. How did people fight with so many areas exposed? No wonder so many people died! And while the blade and spear tip were iron the armour was bronze, yeah, he'd be charming it all immediately in case he ever had to use it. Which since this was him, he would end up needing it soon.

Speaking of… he set the scroll aside and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he slipped into the meditation needed for Occlumency, finding his shields as strong as ever, maybe even stronger. He quickly sorted out his latest memories, not wanting to forget anything Hecate had told him about this new world. And then he dove deeper, into his core. He'd always been powerful and it wasn't until he had learnt to access his core that burst of accidental magic had stopped. The soothing golden glow had changed to be streaked through with orange which when touched brought Hecate to mind, it had to be what made him a demigod. But there were other changes as well and it as going to take time to figure it all out.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares fastened his leather sandals and then left the house, heading into the city and the Agora. After six months, it was time to get out and mingle. So, he wandered the marketplace and city, mixing with the people and getting a feel for the city. He took in all of the Temples and was intrigued to find none to Hecate, so why had she placed him here? Listening to the people talk he hear a lot of grumbling towards Rome and its expansion ever further east. No one seemed very happy about that but also didn't want war. They would have one or the other and he really wished Binns had taught more than just goblin wars. He'd never really been interested in ancient history, now he wished he'd been more curious. But he could not compare his worlds history to this one when there were so many differences. He knew people said Rome brought civilisation to the world but that didn't mean the empire had been a good thing at the time.

He ended up at the gymnasium where he watched the various exercises and games, all done naked. Good thing war had rid him of body shyness. When asked to join in he agreed and moved to strip off as well. This was very different to anything he had done before but he enjoyed the exercise before going to the baths and then listening to a lecture.

At the end of the day he returned home to a good meal and then to his study to keep learning.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares smiled as his cup was refilled, reclining with several other young men as they watched the dancers. Talk of possible war was growing louder and he was torn on what to do. It wouldn't be the first time Macedon fought the Romans, far from it, and it wouldn't be the first time the Greek mainland got involved either. It looked like Athens wouldn't officially support such things but Thrace seemed to be looking to follow Macedon's lead. Although much of that was attributed to the Crown Prince, despite how young he was.

He could go to Macedon, join the army, but then what? He had trained in the gymnasium every day for the last year, learning current sport and fighting styles. He trained further at home, wearing the armour and he had ended up having a linothorax made as the bronze armour was too heavy and restricting for his liking. And with his magic the layered linen armour was even more protective. He'd even learnt to ride a horse which had been interesting and not much like a Thestral or hippogriff since they lacked wings and weren't as smart. He had bought a beautiful black Andravida horse he had named Sirius. Riding bareback other than a blanket and with no stirrups was hard but he cheated with magic.

He hadn't really made any friends in Athens, yes, he had acquaintances as shown by his invitation to the symposium, but no one he was truly close to. He'd been approached on several occasions by younger males as he had learnt was custom and the first few times had shocked him but he had accepted once. Gennadios had been very insistent and Chares had been curious enough to finally give in. It hadn't been about sex either, Gennadios had looked to him for education, protection and as a role model. The relationship had lasted eight months but ended when it was meant to, apparently hair growth equated manhood and so they had ended things.

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Chares accepted the bag from Clitus and secured it. "Don't look so unhappy Clitus."

"Please be safe Master."

"I'll do my best. I trust you to ensure everything is well in my absence." He mounted Sirius and nudged him into a walk, heading north. He was riding to join the Macedonian army, he didn't want to see Rome invade Greece. And there were rumours of a promising new Commander, originally from Sparta. He was said to be the son of Aphrodite and yes, that was what had caught his attention. He wanted to meet another demigod, he was curious as to what that meant for others. Did he have powers like he did?

His magic had changed since coming to this world. He no longer needed a focus of any sort or spells. He just directed his magic to do something and it did it. He still wore the Potter Ring and the one hidden within, the Resurrection Stone. He could see ghosts and sense souls. His first run in with a Daimon had been interesting because of that. He could almost hear the souls it had devoured crying out in fear and he had ripped them from the Daimon with a thought, watching the man disintegrate into golden dust. He felt sorry for the Apollites but he could not let the souls be destroyed. So, it was pretty safe to say he was still 'Master of Death', whatever that may mean here with active gods such as Hades.

It was three days later as he sat at his fire, preparing a dinner of roast rabbit when he sensed someone approaching his small camp and his hand went to his sword, green eyes peering into the darkness.

"May I share your fire?" A voice called as a young-looking man stepped into the firelight, one hand on a horse. Harry looked up and saw the black eyes, sensed no soul and knew, this was a Dark Hunter.

"Welcome Hunter." He greeted, waving a hand and the man removed his gear from his horse and sat down. Chares removed the rabbit and cut it up for two, adding in what he had foraged before passing half over to the hunter.

"My thanks. I am Kyros."

"Chares."

"You are heading north, to Macedon?"

"Yes. I plan to join the army there."

"You seek war." There was a bit of disdain there and he didn't blame Kyros for it, not when the man was stuck in an eternal war.

"No, I would like nothing better than to never raise a sword again. But the world won't allow it. But I won't sit back and let Rome take control of everything. Macedon may have conquered us but at least they were practically Greek as well. Very little of what I have heard of Rome is good."

Kyros nodded in understanding, this was no young boy off to seek glory. "Be careful, many are travelling north and that has brought danger."

"Daimons?" Chares asked and the hunter nodded. "I'll be careful." They ate their meal and Chares wrapped himself in his Chlamys to sleep.

"Thank you for the meal." Kyros stood, he needed to find shelter before sunrise.

"There's a cave that way." Chares indicated before the hunter left. He made sure his sword was in easy reach before allowing himself to fall asleep, knowing he would be woken should danger approach. As soon as the sun rose he was up and dismantling his basic camp before heading off again. He wasn't in any rush since war had yet to break out.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares entered the city of Pella, glad to finally be off the road. He found a place to stable Sirius and an inn before setting off to look around. There was a level of wariness in the air, nervousness amongst them as they walked the streets. It was obvious they knew what was coming. He headed for the Temples and smiled when he found a shrine to Hecate, making a sacrifice to her before the priest stared at him in awe. Chares just smiled and left to get some sleep that didn't involve having a rock digging into his spine.

The next morning, he headed for the small palace and the barracks off to the side. There were soldiers coming and going, all tense.

"What do you want?" one demanded.

"To join up." Chares answered, standing to his full height of 5'11" as the hoplite looked him over.

"Are you trained?"

"Yes sir."

"Hmm. You have armour?"

"Armour and weapons, standard hoplite gear. I also have a horse trained for battle."

"Report to commander Karpos in the Palace, he'll make the decision."

"Thank you." He left the barracks and headed for the palace. A brief meeting later and he was headed to the inn to get his hear and then report to the barracks. A week later they shipped out to meet up with the soldiers gathered from elsewhere in the country.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Julian wandered the camp, Iason having already settled in for the night, but unable to sleep himself. This was what he had trained all his life for, ever since his stepmother had thrust the shield into his hands, telling him to come back with it or on it. And yet now he was here he almost wanted to be back in Sparta. But he needed this or else he would never be allowed to marry Penelope. Her father had made it clear, he had to make a name for himself beyond Sparta for him to consider Julian as a suitor. And there was the ever-gnawing sense of grief over what he had done to Iason and Penelope when he called on Eros to kill their love and make her love him. But Iason had betrayed him first, he had truly thought they were brothers, that the other man cared for him. But it turned out he was just using him, like everyone else.

Julian was snapped out of his thoughts as he ran into another body and reached out to steady the shorter person. The first thing he saw was a mass of dark hair and then the man stepped back and he was shocked by the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. And there was something…. he frowned and then his eyes widened in shock.

"You must be Julian."

"I…yes. Who are you?"

"Chares of Athens. I've been wanting to meet you."

"Why?" Julian was wary but Chares just grinned.

"Because I've never met another demigod before." He admitted.

Julian stared at him, yes, that must be what he could feel. Someone like him…this wasn't the age of heroes; their kind was no longer so common. He'd given up hope of meeting another like him years ago. "My mother is Aphrodite." He confirmed.

"Hecate." Chares answered the unasked question.

"Wait, Athens? I thought they refused to fight?"

"They have, I disagreed. I was heading for the mess tent, care to join me?" He offered and Julian nodded, following him in.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares took his place in the lines, seeing Julian up with the Commander. He could feel the fear and excitement building as they took in the Roman army arrayed before them. It was amazing how many similarities there were despite the major gap in time periods. War was war it seemed. As the Romans charged he locked shields with the men either side of him and hefted his spear. For Freedom!

 _TBC….._

 _there's a poll up to get an idea on the permanent pairing_


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Not mine

Anyone know of a good timeline of events covered by the Dark Hunter books? I'm having to dig through for ages and events and it's a bit time consuming.  
Also, I had to repost the paring poll so if you haven't voted again please do. So far people seem to want Harry/Tabitha the most.

Question for another fic: how do you describe Loki's costume, the version with the coat and no helmet? Please let me know. I can't work out how to describe it.  
Can anyone do the same for the B5 uniforms when they went independent, the black ones, and the ranger uniforms?

 **Chapter 4**

Julian hesitated as he saw Chares kneeling before a small alter, backing off to allow him privacy in his prayers. After a few minutes Chares stood and Julian realised it was an alter to Hecate, the other man's Mother.

"Julian?" Chares asked as he spotted the other demigod.

"I am sorry for interrupting your prayers."

"There's no problem, I was done." He shrugged.

"Have you met her, your Mother?" Julian couldn't help asking. He'd prayed and prayed when he was younger, yet Aphrodite had never appeared before him, only his half-brother, Eros.

"Once, a few years ago. I was possibly dying at the time," he admitted as they moved to sit at one of the camp fires. "I thought she was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen." He smiled and Julian hung on his every word. "I don't know if she saved me, or if I managed to heal on my own but either way I pulled through."

"I've never met her," Julian admitted softly. "She has never once come to me, just sent gifts with Eros."

"I'm sorry." Chares threw a companionable arm around Julian's shoulders and Julian lent into the hold, they were family in that they were both demigods and it felt nice to have family that wanted him around. He knew Hecate and Aphrodite weren't related but that was alright.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

The fighting over Thebes had been dragging on for weeks. Three days ago, the Commander, Ariston, had fallen and the army had panicked, scrambling to retreat but Julian had grabbed the fallen man's sword and rallied them, Chares and Iason rushing to his side. Now the army followed Julian as they fought to keep the Romans from retaking Thebes. Chares ducked under the blow and drove his sword into his attackers' side before turning to face another. He looked around briefly, spotting Julian easily but he frowned when he realised the cavalry was in shambles and he couldn't see their Commander, Heiron, anywhere. If the cavalry routed then they would be in serious trouble. He brought his fingers to his lips and let out a specific whistle. In their camp Sirius' ears pricked up at the familiar call and he broke into a gallop. Chares mounted quickly and rode for the cavalry lines. "Hold together!" he yelled and soon they had rallied around him. He led a charge into the Roman ranks, taking some of the pressure off Julian.

Chares dismounted once back in camp, relieved to see the end of the battle. He gave Sirius a quick rub down before allowing one of the young men to take him to be fed and watered. He made his way to the command tent and found Julian just outside. As soon as the Commander saw him he grinned. "You saved the day out there my friend."

"I did what anyone else would have. If the cavalry had fallen apart we would have been in real trouble." He shrugged it off and they entered the tent, Iason nodding in greeting to his oldest friend and commander.

Julian took control as they went over battle reports, lists of the dead and injured, and reports from the scouts. "Chares, I am placing you in command of the cavalry. You managed to pull them together in the middle of a battle, something few could have done. We've pushed them back far enough, it appears Scipio Aemilianus has called for reinforcements against Carthage. Which means that we are going home for now." That got a reaction, they'd been fighting for eight months straight now and the rest would be very welcome. The meeting broke up and they headed off to find food and sleep. "If I have any say you will be the permanent commander. Then again I may not be made a permanent commander either."

"Julian, her Majesty would be crazy not to confirm you." Chares slapped his shoulder. "Come on, time to eat."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares knelt beside Julian as their Queen stepped down from her throne, braiding first Julian's and then Chares' hair at the temple into the three thin commander braids. Julian's, she tied off with her own personal beads, a great honour indeed. Chares received generic beads at the end of his but he didn't mind at all. The promotion was a great honour on its own, one he had not expected. She retook her thrown and they stood to salute her before joining the feast.

"He can't deny you now my friend, wearing the Queen's beads and Commander of the Macedonian army." Iason grinned and Julian smiled.

"Iason's right, I expect we shall be invited to a wedding soon." Chares grinned as well as they ate.

"Will you be returning to Athens?" Julian asked and Chares shrugged.

"Nothing to return for. Besides, why go to Athens when there should be a wedding in Sparta soon?"

"I will be glad to have both of you with me." Julian admitted. He had a villa of his own now in Macedon where he would bring Penelope to live but first they would have to return to Sparta in order to wed.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares stood with Iason as Julian and Penelope said their vows to each other. With his position as Commander of the Macedonian Army he had to have a more public wedding than was traditional for Spartans. He hadn't snuck off to meet Penelope in the dark of night to consummate their relationship. Instead her father had publicly handed her over to Julian before a mixed crowd of Spartans and Macedonians who had come to see their Commander wed. It was obvious Julian and Penelope were in love, although there was something about her reactions that had Chares confused but he ignored the feeling to be happy for his friend.

Soon they were reclining at the wedding banquet, feasting and drinking until Julian and Penelope left for their first night together as husband and wife. In the morning, they would leave for Macedonia and Julian's estate there, Chares leading a section of the cavalry to ensure their safety during the journey.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares looked over as Julian was approached by two other men, one not much younger than Julian himself. They had been back on the frontline for three weeks now, Rome had crushed Carthage and turned its attention back to the Macedon.

"Here he is, Prince Kyrian of Thrace. If anything happens to him payment shall be taken from you. Nephew, do not dishonour our family."

"Yes, Uncle Zetes." Kyrian answered in annoyance before the older man left him in the camp. "You're Julian of Macedon?" He looked over the other man, they were both tall and blonde but there was something more to Julian.

"I warn you now Prince Kyrian, your title will not give you safety in war. Chares!" he called and Chares moved to approach his Commander.

"Sir?"

"Get Kyrian situated and make sure he knows where everything is." Julian ordered and Chares led him away.

"Is he always so abrupt?" Kyrian asked once they had moved far enough away.

"The Roman Army arrived at a village before us yesterday. We only finished tending the dead this morning." He explained and saw Kyrian's eyes widen. "In here." He held the tent flap up and Kyrian ducked inside. "You will be sharing a tent with me. Stow your gear and then I will introduce you around." He ordered and then left the tent so the other man could get settled in. the last thing they needed was some spoiled princeling but Kyrian seemed to be the one behind Thrace's support so perhaps he would be a good addition to the army. Only time would tell.

,,,,,,,,,,,

Julian didn't look up as he felt a familiar presence at his back. "Is his Highness settled?"

"He does have a name." Chares answered as he took a goblet of wine.

"Mmm."

"I put him in my tent." He answered as Iason joined them. The Spartan was Julian's oldest friend but Chares sensed there was something…off. Like Julian was keeping something dark from the man he called brother but Chares had never asked. He was Julian's Calvary Commander and friend, practically family as both were demigods, but this was something Julian would never speak of.

"Why do we have to take in some arrogant Thracian Prince?" Iason asked.

"He needs to learn war and Thrace is an ally." Julian straightened from the map and the three men began discussing their strategy.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Kyrian hesitated as he saw the two men sparing. The strength and precision behind their blows….it was like nothing he had ever seen before. He'd heard the rumours but hadn't believed them…now he was thinking they really were true. The Macedonian Army could boast two demigods among its ranks, both Commanders. He knew he'd had the best training available and yet he didn't think he could match either man.

 _TBC…_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Still not min._

 _Top three pairings in the poll are Harry/Kyrian, Harry/Julian and Harry/Tabitha, still time to vote! Do not assume the pairings you see in this chapter are going to pop up again in the 21_ _st_ _century. Warning there is slash in this chapter._

 **Chapter 5**

Chares gently rubbed Sirius down, ensure the horse was well groomed and cleaned after the days fighting. It felt like forever since the last 'truce' that was long enough to go home, it had been Julian's wedding. It was tiring, always being on guard and expecting attack. Rome had no honour, attacking at any time or place, even during religious festivals which really angered many of their troops. In the past war had only been fought in summer but with armies being professional now there was no need to stop for them to tend their fields.

Sensing someone watching him he turned and smiled in welcome. "You fought well today Kyrian."

The Prince shrugged the praise off as he sat on a nearby log. "Why did you join the war? Athens is remaining neutral."

"And Thrace only signed on because you pushed for it." Chares pointed out as he finished checking Sirius' hooves. He joined Kyrian on the log. "Rome will only stop expanding if someone stops it. The people of Athens do not want to see that, they want to believe Rome will be happy with what they have, especially with Carthage now defeated. I refuse to sit back and wait for my home to be invaded. Allying with Macedon makes sense."

"There are rumours in camp that Julian isn't the only demigod."

"He isn't." Chares would tell anyone who directly asked but he ignored the rumours.

Kyrian nodded, he'd thought so after seeing them train together, it was nice to have confirmation. "What will you do when we have brought Rome to its knees?"

Chares laughed at the confident statement inside the question. "I suppose I will return to Athens and marry, as is expected."

"Only because it is expected?"

"A wife and home don't hold much interest for me. Perhaps I will find another army to fight for." He dreaded having a family because he knew he would outlive them. Hecate had been right, he was immortal. He'd taken a fatal sword thrust to the side only three days ago and had shrugged it off like it was nothing. He had always wanted a family but now he was scared of watching them grow old and die. He had the feeling that while they may inherit longer life spans and good health, perhaps even magic, they would not inherit his immortality.

Julian's appearance stopped their conversation and they saw he was clutching a dispatch. "Julian?" Chares called in alarm but then his friend smiled.

"I…Penelope…I'm going to be a Father." He stammered and the two other men were quickly on their feet, congratulating him.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares pulled his sword free of the body on the ground and glanced around, the fires were being put out and the wounded tended. The Romans had snuck past their sentries and attacked the camp at dusk when they had begun to relax. It had been a small group but they had down damage, managing to kill several soldiers before the alarm was raised. He cleaned the blood from the blade and began moving through the camp to ensure everything was alright. "Kyrian!" he called in alarm, seeing the young man slumped by the horses he knelt by his side and placed his hand over the wound, focusing and pouring magic into it. Wide, dark green eyes stared at him as his organs knit back together. A bloody hand grasped at his arm and Chares gently cupped his face with his free hand. "It's alright, you'll be alright. Just stay calm." He soothed as the muscle and skin began to heal since the internal work was done.

"Ch…" Kyrian gasped out, he was tired, so tired.

"I've got you, just sleep Kyrian." He murmured and Kyrian slowly went limp as sleep overtook him. He'd lost a lot of blood so the sleep would help him recover. Once sure he was healed Chares hefted him over his shoulders and made for their tent.

"Chares!" Julian called in alarm at seeing the Prince over his friends' shoulders.

"He's alive." He assured Julian who fell into step with him, eyes wide as he saw the blood covering the two. "We'll need water."

"I'll get some." Julian left to get water and Chares gently lowered Kyrian onto his bedding. He went to work removing the blood covered armour, looking for any smaller wound he may have missed. Julian returned and went to work washing the blood away while Chares stripped out of his own armour so he, and it, could be cleaned. "Where did the blood come from?"

"Kyrian, he took a sword right through the middle." He held the armour up and Julian balked at seeing the damage.

"Then how…" He looked back at smooth golden skin and Chares smiled slightly.

"Son of the Goddess of Magic. Magic, in the right hands, can do a lot."

"You healed him." Julian whispered in awe, he had never heard of a demigod with such power.

"I wasn't going to watch him die." Chares shrugged, uncomfortable. "He'll sleep until morning; his body took a lot of damage and needs a chance to rest." Julian nodded and went to check on the others while Chares cleaned up and then went to bed himself, he hadn't used that much magic in such a short time period since he'd been relearning things when he'd first arrived.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Kyrian woke slowly and then realised he shouldn't be waking at all. He remembered the blow, the pain and weakness…. Chares had found him and he had been relieved not to die alone. So how was he looking up at their tent? He blinked and looked around before spotting the sleeping form of Chares across the tent. He slowly pushed himself up, a hand going to his stomach to find no bandages or wound. How long had he been unconscious? He sat up fully and looked down to find there was not even a scar but how was that possible?

"How do you feel?" Chares asked and Kyrian looked over to see the Cavalry Commander was now awake. Chares got up, not caring that he was naked, casual nudity was something he had gotten used to very quickly, and knelt beside Kyrian, gently checking him over.

"I was stabbed…. how long?" Kyrian asked in confusion.

"Last night."

"How?" Kyrian didn't understand and then he remembered, Chares hand over his wound. "You healed me?"

"I wasn't about to let you die my friends. Stay here and I will get you something light to eat." Chares stood and dressed in the basics before leaving to get food for them both. He returned quickly and watched as Kyrian savoured the food, it may not be very appetising but for someone who had thought they would never eat again it was alright.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

The army was trapped and all because of an idiot young hoplite who had sold them out because he wanted to be a Roman centurion. Chares steadied his men, green eyes taking in the odds and not liking them. He looked ahead and to the right where Julian and Kyrian were at the front of the army. The Roman army was above them in the hills and there was no way to outflank them or retreat. Not that they would, death always before dishonour, Julian believed it so much the words were engraved on his shield. Beside a fleeing hoplite was a dead hoplite.

As the Romans were riding down upon them, Julian took it all in and he knew the Romans would expect him to pull his forces together into a phalanx, making them easy prey for the Roman cavalry and archers above. "Disband! Aim your spears toward the horses, break apart the Roman cavalry lines." Julian called and Chares quickly spread the order to his men, breaking the lines before urging Sirius into a gallop towards the approaching Roman cavalry, a war cry on his lips. It became obvious very quickly that the Romans were shocked by their actions, ones no 'civilised' army would ever take. Then they crashed into the Romans and began slashing and stabbing away at the enemy.

It did not take long for the Romans to begin to turn, the arrow volleys had been halted for doing as much damage to their own side as the Macedonian army. This wasn't the more organised fighting between two phalanxes, this was a free for all. Julian gave a mighty battle cry as he rode his horse, Mania, across the field, and up the hillock where the Roman commanders were beginning to retreat. They turned to attack him, but it did them no good. Enraged by betrayal Julian cut through them, not noticing when Chares appeared to watch his back. Finally, only one man was left living, lying on the ground and bleeding. Julian took the Roman Standard and ripped it to shreds to bind the man's wounds instead of killing him. A lethal smile crossed his lips, making the survivor gulp in terror. "'Roma delenda est." Julian hissed before the man was taken away. Rome must be destroyed.

Three days later the Roman general was sent home in chains to give Julian's message to the Roman Senate.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares nearly went for his knife as he was grabbed but then warm, chapped lips were against his and he responded, hand dropping from the blade. "I could have killed you." He hissed as Kyrian broke off. The Prince smirked but there was something in his eyes, nervousness and grief. "This isn't the way to deal with what happened." He argued as a hand slid under his armour.

"I've been watching you since I came to the army." Kyrian admitted.

Chares sighed and then pulled him into their tent. He was definitely tempted by the offer, they could both use the stress relief. It was accepted for soldiers to turn to each other, especially in such long campaigns so there was no issue there. But as the older he had to be sure Kyrian knew what he was asking for and exactly what he was looking for.

But Kyrian was never one to wait and had already stripped his armour off. He was stunning, close to six and a half feet tall with long wild blonde hair and dark green eyes, a darker shade than Chares own brilliant green. There were scars scattered across the golden skin but that was the price of their lifestyle. He could see the growing nervousness and knew it was because he was just watching quietly so he reached for his own armour, glad he had filled out since his Hogwarts days. His black hair was worn long and currently free, except for his three commander braids and he had continued to bulk up over the years of fighting, he'd also grown since coming here, he assumed because of Hecate, and now stood at a respectable six feet or so. And obviously those changes were to Kyrian's liking.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Julian watched his friends and smiled slightly, glad they could take comfort and pleasure together. Eventually both would marry but for now at least they had each other. He wasn't jealous, he had Penelope and their children, even if he very rarely saw them. He knew he was a rarity, staying totally loyal to his wife but it was the least he could do in exchange for what he had done to her and Iason. The man he had once considered a brother, until he had heard him deriding Julian to Penelope that day, had been sent off to join Jason's army fighting further north. Jason was new to command and needed a solid solider as his second, Iason was the obvious choice for the promotion.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares shook his head at Kyrian's antics even as he accepted a cup of wine from a passing servant. The young Prince was certainly unique and probably mad. Julian was an amazing Commander but he kept back from the troops more than Kyrian. He had seen the way some of the men reacted to Julian and he wanted to hit them for it, despite everything he had done they still couldn't see past his birth. Chares could admit he was incredible to look at but the man was happily married, despite the many propositions from women and men he would not stray from his wife. Kyrian was the charming, roguish Prince, happy to drink and fight with just about anyone.

Chares waived away the young women approaching. Why had he offered to host this party? Ah yes, to celebrate finally acquiring a home in Macedon. He watched a woman approach Kyrian and shook his head at the young Prince's reaction to her. She was pretty, but older than Kyrian and definitely not the sort the King would want him publicly associating with. The Greeks weren't quite as open about sex as he'd heard the Romans were but monogamy was almost unheard of, divorce and remarriage common and no one saw anything wrong with two males, as long as they eventually married to have children.

The next morning, he was nursing a mild headache, but nothing compared to poor Kyrian. Julian too was protected by his mixed blood so they both grinned at Kyrian's predicament. "Have fun last night?" Chares teased and Kyrian groaned but then smiled.

"Her name is Theone, I have never met a woman like her."

Chares sighed, wonderful. The King was going to kill him for hosting this party with no thought to the fact he was an Athenian and not Thracian and therefore not one of his people. Then again, Kyrian had been entrusted to Julian's care, so maybe he would be blamed.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

The smile on Julian's face was rather familiar and Chares laughed. "Again?"

"Penelope is with child."

"Congratulations." Their first child had been a son, strong and obviously taking after his father in looks.

 _TBC….._


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: Not mine.  
_ _So, Harry/Kyrian/Julian is winning the poll by a landslide. Still time to vote_

 **Chapter 6**

Chares urged his horse on, calling to his men as he raced across the hard-packed ground. Where they mad? Two men could not hold back an army. This was the sort of recklessness he expected from Kyrian, even after all this time, but Julian? The army had broken and the two men had remained behind to defend Themopoly. He pushed his horse faster, why had they split the infantry and cavalry so far apart? It had been a trap and they'd fallen for it. His men galloped close behind, all fearing they would find their Commander and the Prince dead or captured.

Julian panted in the heat, sword slick in his hand from blood and his shield discarded after a blow had cleaved it almost in half. They had been fighting alone for what felt like days but likely had only been an hour or so. When the army had run he had expected Kyrian to abandon him as well, but the young fool had just smiled at him, grabbed a sword for each hand, and said, "It's a beautiful day to die. What say we slay as many of these bastards as we can before we pay Charon?" He was a complete and utter lunatic, with more guts than brains. He turned slightly as the thunder of hooves reached his ears, assuming it was more Romans and he laughed as he saw a familiar pitch-black horse in the lead and on his back the lightly armoured form of Chares. They would win this. Sure enough, with the arrival of fresher troops on horseback the Roman infantry retreated.

"Are you two suicidal?" Chares snapped as he dismounted, removing his helmet.

"No praise for so many Romans slain my friend?" Kyrian asked and Chares slapped him upside his unprotected head since the Prince had managed to lose his helmet at some point.

Julian couldn't help watching their interactions, realising they were no longer taking comfort from each other, not since Kyrian had met Theone. He felt bad for his friend, he would not seek anything from the lower ranked soldiers, it could make life difficult. If Chares would take a bride at least he would have a warm home to return to, not the empty villa with only servants for company. "There was no choice but to hold the town Chares. I am just glad you got here when you did. The Roman Cavalry?" Julian clasped his friends shoulder, pushing aside thoughts of Chares life away from battle.

"Will need many new recruits." He grinned and Julian nodded.

"Then let us celebrate and praise Athena!" Kyrian called out and they entered the town to a hero's welcome.

Kyrian and Julian had drunk each other under the table in celebration, much to Chares amusement. And in the morning, he had awakened them and dragged them out where they had received their promotions to General, each receiving the gold ring.

"You should have received one too Chares."

"I am quite content as I am Kyrian. I have no want for titles." Chares denied, the more well-known he became the harder it would be to move on to a new life eventually. At least cameras didn't exist yet!

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"Chares!"

Julian's call had him running into the command tent where he took the offered message and read it. So Kyrian had gone through with it and married Theone and in return King Alkis had disinherited him. Kyrian had broken his engagement to the Macedonian Princess to marry a hetaira he had met at Chares' party and now he felt very guilty. Kyrian was no longer a Prince but Alkis could not take his title of General from him since he was fighting for Macedon.

"Will you go to him? I dare not." Julian admitted softly. He knew the reaction woman, and some men had to him and did not want to risk his friendship with Kyrian.

"Of course, if I can be spared?" Chares asked, could they afford to have both him and Kyrian gone?

"They seem content to try and wait us out for now." Julian admitted, glancing at the map that showed the Roman's current positions.

Chares immediately packed his gear, mounted his horse and set off for Thrace and Kyrian's estate there. It was a long ride but he eventually arrived and was welcomed into the villa where he found a happy yet melancholy Kyrian and his new bride. Theone was eight years his senior and an ex-prostitute to boot. That did not bother Chares, as long as it was a love match and it was obvious it was on Kyrian's side. It was Theone he was unsure of, everyone else said she wanted his money and power, he would wait and see. He had only met the woman at that one party after all, he would not assume anything.

"Welcome my brother." They clasped arms. "Couldn't drag Julian away?"

"Someone has to keep the soldiers in line and Rome running." He grinned. "Congratulations on your marriage Kyrian, Theone." He bowed slightly to her in greeting.

"Can you stay long?" Kyrian asked as they walked through the garden.

"A few days, the Roman's appear content to wait us out for now. And I can't say I am unhappy about the chance for a few good meals and baths." He admitted and Kyrian laughed.

"Those you shall have." He swore as soldiers took Chares' pack to a guestroom. "You will join us for the evening meal?"

"Of course." Chares slipped into the room and smiled when he found the hot bath waiting. He stripped and sank into the water, letting it relax sore muscles and erase the evidence of the hard ride. He closed his eyes and examined the villa with his other senses, he could feel the alter and grinned when he realised it was dedicated to Hecate and Aphrodite. It was sweet of his friend to honour his and Julian's Mothers'. Other than that, there was nothing so as he soaked he wove protective spells over the home to keep his friend and one-time lover safe. He cared deeply for Kyrian, he always would, but he had gone into it knowing they wouldn't last, not with the expectations of society and the uncertainties of war. Caring wasn't love anyway, maybe he could have loved Kyrian but he was happy for him, as long as Theone loved Kyrian.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares reclined and sipped at his wine, smiling as Kyrian recounted a story. He would be leaving to return to camp in the morning and had enjoyed the small vacation, but he was leaving with a heavy heart. He had his answer…. Theone did not love Kyrian, she cared perhaps, but she had wanted a Prince and the security one could offer. He suspected if Kyrian had spurned her, he would have been her next target as he was a Commander and wealthy. He would not say anything to Kyrian, the other man would not listen and he did not want to quarrel. He would do everything he could to guard Kyrian from any scheme she may concoct though.

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Chares mounted Sirius and rode to his place in the lines, looking for the Generals only to blink…. was that? ... oh my. He bit back a snicker as he took in Julian's helmet which now sported feathers instead of horsehair. There was only one reason he would have left it as is, Atolycus must have made the switch. To not upset his son, he had worn them away with pride and not even Kyrian was laughing. Julian doted on Atolycus and Callista, not that he blamed him, they were beautiful children. He did protect them a lot, perhaps too much, they were the children of a Spartan and yet Atolycus was not allowed near weapons, the child's sword Kyrian had given as a gift had been taken away.

Then again Julian wasn't the only one breaking the norms, Chares had yet to take a wife and people were beginning to talk. He didn't want to marry at the moment but it looked like he would have no choice. No one remained unmarried in such societies, it was his duty to marry and have children. He would have to begin searching for a bride the next time the Romans decided they needed a break. He was not looking forward to it at all, he had too many secrets.

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Chares laughed as Kyrian was tackled to the ground by Atolycus and Callista, acting as if they had taken him down. He passed his gear to a waiting servant as Julian darted forward to grab his children up and hug them before moving to embrace his wife. She welcomed them and then they split up to their rooms to clean up and rest. He had work to do while they were there, he had letters to write and send. Three to Athens, the rest to be delivered through Macedon. This would be no love match but a business deal and he didn't like it but he had not met many women and those he knew he had no desire to marry. He had always imagined marrying for love, having children and growing old together, something he could no longer offer.

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Eurytos re-read the letter and then put it aside, looking out to where his daughter sat in the shade. It was a generous offer and all knew of the three men who led the Macedonian war efforts against Rome. Aspasia looked to be around seventeen, by human standards, when in fact she was younger. So far, her Mother's heritage seemed to be winning out and he feared what that meant for his beloved daughter. Perhaps a husband who was always away at war would be the safest kind for her. If he was rarely home perhaps he would not notice how she aged. He still remembered those agonising hours as he held his beloved Thaleia as she aged and died in a matter of hours. Aspasia was half human though; would that be enough to save her from Apollo's curse? He took up a blank scroll and wrote his reply, praying he was doing the right thing.

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Chares paced the bedroom of his villa, looking out at the lavish gardens he hoped his new wife would find solace in during his frequent absences. He had agreed to marry a young Athenian girl and young was the word, seventeen. He was twenty-five, making it a good age gap between them, but that was normal for these times, even for Wizards back home.

He looked at the clothing that had been prepared for the next day; a fine white linen Chiton with gold fasteners. Over that he would wear a bright blue Chlamys, fastened at his right shoulder by a brooch in the shape of Athena's shield since he was a warrior. He prayed and sacrificed to her just like his men, alongside the prayers to Hecate. To finish the outfit were a pair of soft sandals, rather than the boots he wore on campaign.

"Nervous?" he looked up to find Julian in the doorway.

"No." he denied, even if he was…. just a little.

"Tomorrow you will be married Chares, yet you do not look excited."

"Because I am not. I come back here so rarely, what sort of life is that for a wife? You and Kyrian knew your wives beforehand, I am marrying a stranger. Aspasia is a stranger and worse, I am taking her so far from her home." He shook his head and then walked out of the room with Julian to find Kyrian waiting, already reclining at the table. They joined him there for the evening meal. His friends plied him with alcohol and he let them, of the three of them Kyrian would suffer the worst from it.

In the morning, Clitus helped him dress in the clothes and the two demigods laughed as Kyrian squinted in the light. He received word from his father-in-law to be that Aspasia had followed the traditions and sacrificed her childhood toys to Artemis before bathing in perfumed water and swearing fealty to Demeter as was done in Athens, despite the fact they were in Macedon. He stood in the wedding chariot, Julian and Kyrian with him, and they set off for his brides' temporary residence. The other two men dismounted and three people emerged from the house, one veiled. He offered her his hand and she stepped up into the chariot which then headed for his house. They remained silent during the ride and he helped her down as they were showered with dates, figs, nuts and small coins by Kyrian and Julian since Chares had no mortal family to do so. They then stood before a priest and listened as he recited verses on the wonders and duties of marriage before he led her into the bedroom.

Aspasia kept her head lowered as her veil was removed, golden hair tumbling down her back. Chares stared at his new bride and felt something inside sink. "Apollite?" he asked gently and she nodded.

"My Father is mortal my Lord."

He wondered if that would change her fate or not. Part of him wanted to cast her out immediately, and yet… "You are my wife Aspasia; my name is Chares." He whispered and she glanced up so he smiled at her. She smiled timidly back and he knelt, gently removing her sandals to her surprise. "I will not harm you." He promised and she nodded.

The next day they emerged and the wedding feast began. Chares smiled as he watched her showered in gifts, to be held in trust in case he died before her, a likely event despite her heritage, since he was a warrior. What no one else knew was thanks to some magic she was pregnant with a son, to ensure his belongings would remain with her for their child. He had also ensured it would be an easy pregnancy and safe birth. And this way she would live long enough to truly be a part of the child's life. He had feared outliving his children before, now it was even worse. Would Hecate's blood be strong enough to overcome Apollo's curse? Eurytos had looked at him nervously but had relaxed as everything went as normal, Chares could have caused trouble over his keeping her heritage secret. He said nothing when her gaze wandered to Julian, he knew the other man would never stray from his own wife and it wasn't like he would begrudge Aspasia a lover considering he was gone, sometimes for years.

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"Clitus and the others will take good care of you and ensure you have anything you need." Chares promised as he put his boots on. He smiled as she held out his belt and sword, taking them from her to put on. "I am sorry we have not had longer to get to know each other." He took her hand and kissed the back of it gently.

Aspasia smiled at her husband of only sixteen days. He had been everything she had dreamed of in a husband, kind and attentive, he had never brought up her heritage again. He was more than just a warrior, they could discuss many topics together. But now the war was calling him away and she was worried for him.

"I will be home again Aspasia." He promised.

"No soldier can swear that Chares."

"I can." He gently brushed some hair form her face. "You are not the only one with godly ancestry. I am a demigod and immortal, I have taken 'mortal' wounds before."

Her eyes widened at that. An immortal demigod? His godly parent must be someone very powerful. And she felt a flash of hope, would their children take more after him? "I will still worry for you." She admitted and he nodded.

"I will be as careful as possible." He swore as they left the bedroom and he walked to where Sirius was waiting. He kissed her gently before mounting the horse and riding away. He was surprised to find he would miss her, he did not love her, not yet, but there was a feeling of friendship, she was a bit quiet but other than that she was the sort of person he had imagined marrying. Kind, smart, pretty, much like what people had described his own mortal Mother as. It would be good to get to know her more and he hoped to do so, they had time even with her reduced lifespan, she was only seventeen, that gave them a decade together, maybe more thanks to her human Father. He was just glad she could tolerate sunlight, although she preferred to remain in the shade, her small fangs did not bother him at all and he would not ask where she found the blood she needed, she would tell him if she wanted to.

 _TBC…_


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

 _Final pairings have been chosen. Harry/Tabitha, Kyrian/Amanda and Julian/Grace…but there will be pairings all over the place until we reach current times._

 _For those who have not read elsewhere, I will be beginning my Masters this year, so for the next 4yrs updates will be slower during term as I need to focus on studies._

 **Chapter 7**

Chares accepted the congratulations of the men as he walked through the camp until he came to the command tent and entered to find Julian, Kyrian and the others. More congratulations were given and then they got to work. Within two days they had broken camp and set off to cut off the Roman infantry before they could join up again with the cavalry.

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"Commander!" A rider pulled his horse to a stop beside Sirius and held out the letter which Chares took and read, eyes widening in shock. Seeing his reaction Kyrian moved over to him.

"Chares?"

"Aspasia is to give birth soon," he answered, playing the role of shocked husband well.

"You did enjoy your wedding night then," Kyrian teased and Chares swung at him playfully.

"I suppose then it is your turn to take leave," Julian offered as he joined them, clapping Chares' shoulder.

"Julian…"

"No argument my friend. No one will begrudge you attending the birth of your first child. You will leave with the injured and return with fresh troops."

"Very well." He left to pack and join the group heading home.

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"Welcome home Master," Clitus greeted, surprised by his return.

"Thank you Clitus. Is Aspasia at home?"

"Yes sir. I believe she is in the gynaikon."

Chares headed upstairs and then knocked at the doorway. "Aspasia? May I enter?"

Aspasia started at the knock, worried, until she recognised the voice she had not heard in months. Thanks to her mixed heritage her pregnancy had lasted more than the normal Apollite nine weeks but far less than a human nine months but still, she had not expected him to be able to come in response to the message she had sent. "Enter," she called and stood to face her husband. He walked in, still dressed for the road and in armour, unchanged from the last time she had seen him. "Welcome home Chares," she smiled in greeting and he moved to gently take her hands, kissing her cheek.

"It is good to be home," he looked down to see the evidence of her pregnancy. "Are you well?" it was one thing to know he was going to be a Father…it was another to see.

"Well enough," she let him settle her back on a seat. "I did not think you would get leave so soon."

"Julian insisted I get to be here for the birth. I escorted the wounded back and I will be taking reinforcements when I return."

"You should bathe and rest, we can speak later," he looked tired and stank of horse.

Chares chuckled but nodded and kissed her cheek before leaving to bathe.

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Chares fought the urge to pace as he heard Aspasia cry out in pain from the bedroom. She had been in labour for four hours now, how much worse would it have been if not for his magic? But finally, he heard the welcome cry of a newborn and soon the midwife emerged with a baby.

"You have a son. Your wife is doing well," she assured him, handing the child over.

Chares rocked his son gently, awed by the tiny person he had helped bring to life. "Leon," he whispered. Lion was an appropriate name for the son of a Gryffindor. The baby had his dark hair and when he opened his eyes they were the same colour as Aspasia. So far, his features seemed to favour his mother more and that worried him a little, would his blood help dilute the curse, or would he watch his son age and die in a handful of years?

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"Well?" Kyrian demanded as soon as Chares joined them, and he smiled.

"I have a son, Leon," he announced proudly and was soon being congratulated by all of their men who heard. the celebration did not last long as Roman scouts were spotted and he led the cavalry in riding after them to stop them reporting their position to Scipio.

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Julian walked in in from the stables, happy to be home even for only a few days. It was rare he or Kyrian got to go home, in that he envied Chares his lower rank which gave him more freedom in leaving. But finally, after far too long he was home and he eagerly looked forward to seeing his children. He entered the house and froze as he saw Penelope and Iason in the atrium, kissing. Stunned, he stopped mid-stride as a wave of trepidation washed over him while he watched the heated way they embraced.

Until Iason looked up and saw him in the doorway. The instant their eyes met, Iason curled his lip. "You worthless thief! Priapus told me of your treachery. How could you?" His one-time only friend demanded and Julian knew this was not going to end well.

Her face contorted by hatred, Penelope rushed at Julian, then slapped him. "You filthy bastard, I could kill you for what you've done."

"And I will kill you for it." Iason unsheathed his sword.

Julian tried to push Penelope out of the way, but she refused. He would not risk her life, even if she hated him now she was still to be protected.

"Dear gods, I bore your children," she said, trying to claw his face.

Julian held her wrists. "Penelope, I-"

"Don't you touch me," she snarled, wringing her arms from his grasp. "It makes my flesh crawl. Do you honestly think any decent woman would ever want you in the light of day? You are vile. Repulsive." She shoved him toward Iason. "Cut his heart out. I want to bathe in his blood until I can no longer smell his touch on me," she sneered, head held high and Julian knew there would be no reasoning with either of them.

Iason swung his sword. Julian jumped back, out of the blade's arc. Instinctively, he reached for his own sword, but stopped. The last thing he wanted was to draw Iason's blood. "I don't want to fight you," he pleaded, he had always been the better fighter and he didn't want to hurt the man he had once called brother and had wronged, although Iason had wronged him first by using him.

"Don't you? You violated my woman and sired children on her that should have been mine! I welcomed you into my home. I gave you a bed when no one else would have you near them, and this is how you repay me?"

Julian stared in disbelief. "Repaid you! Have you any idea the number of times I've saved your life in battle? How many beatings did I take for you? Can you even count them all? And yet you dared mock me." He snapped, all the anger and hurt over Iason's words that day bubbling up.

Iason laughed cruelly. "Everyone except Kyrian and Chares mocks you, you fool. In fact, they defend you so strongly that it makes me wonder what the three of you do when you wander off alone."

Squelching the rage that would leave him vulnerable to Iason's blade, Julian barely ducked the next attack. "Stop it, Iason. Don't make me do something we'll both regret."

"The only thing I regret is that I let a thief into my house," Iason bellowed with rage, and swung again.

Julian tried to duck, but Penelope ran at him from behind and pushed him forward. Iason's blade caught him across the ribs. Hissing in pain, Julian drew his own sword, then deflected a blow that would have left him headless had it made contact. Iason tried to engage him, but Julian did nothing more than defend himself while trying to keep Penelope out of the thick of the fight. "Don't do this, Iason. You know your skills are inferior to mine."

Iason pressed his attack. "There's no way I'm going to let you keep her."

The next few seconds had happened so fast, and yet Julian saw them unfold in sharp, crisp clarity. Penelope caught Julian's free arm at the same time Iason swung his sword. The blade narrowly missed Julian as she slung him about. Unbalanced, Julian tried to extract himself from her, but with Penelope in the way, he staggered forward at the same time Iason did. The instant they collided, he felt his sword sink deep into Iason's body. "No!" Julian shouted, drawing his sword out of Iason's stomach as Penelope let out a scream of pure, tormented anguish. Slowly, Iason fell to the ground. Dropping to his knees, Julian tossed his sword aside, and pulled his friend into his arms. "Dear gods, what have you done?"

Coughing up blood, Iason stared accusingly at him. "I did nothing. It was you who betrayed me. We were brothers and you stole my heart." Iason swallowed painfully as his pale eyes bored into Julian. "You never had anything in your life you didn't steal from someone else."

Julian trembled as guilt and agony washed over him. He'd never meant for this to happen. Never meant to hurt anyone, least of all Iason. He'd only wanted someone to love him. Only wanted a home where he was welcome. But Iason was right. It was all his fault. All of it.

Penelope's screams echoed in his ears. She grabbed him by the hair and pulled it as hard as she could. Her eyes wild, she wrenched the dagger from his waist. "I want you dead! Dead!" She plunged the dagger into his arm, then pulled back to strike again. Julian grabbed her hand. With a feral shriek, she wrenched herself away. "No," she said, her eyes crazed. "I want you to suffer. You took from me what I loved most. Now I will take the same from you." She ran from the room.

Overwhelmed by his grief and anger, Julian couldn't move as he watched the life drain out of Iason's body. Until Penelope's words sank into his dazed mind. "No!" he roared, rising to his feet. "Don't!" He reached the door to her chambers in time to hear the children screaming. His heart shredded, he tried to open it, but she'd bolted it from the inside.

 _TBC…_


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: Still not mine_

 **Chapter 8**

Chares pushed Sirius faster and faster. He had a pit in his stomach and so he was going after Julian. There had been a surprise break in the war and so Julian had returned home, Kyrian and Chares left in charge of the army. He had noticed Iason was gone and his bad feeling had begun. He had told Kyrian who had urged him to leave since Chares' feelings had saved them before. He dismounted before the horse had even come to a full stop and rushed into the house to find Iason dead on the floor. "Julian!" He shouted, searching the house until he came to the bed chamber to find Julian kneeling over his wife Penelope as she bled. He dropped to his knees beside him and pulled out the healing kit he carried. "Julian?" He called and tormented blue eyes met his.

"I sent for a physician." He whispered in agony.

"What happened? Where are the children?" He asked, and Julian looked behind him. Chares glanced over to see too small bodies covered in blood.

"She killed them…" he shuddered.

Chares worked feverishly but within minutes she was dead. "I am so sorry."

"It's my fault, I should have known not to trust Eros," His General and friend muttered.

"Julian?" Chares closed empty eyes gently and then moved to Julian's side, looking him over for injuries.

"I should have let Penelope marry Iason…. I just wanted…"

Chares found no injuries, so he stood and gently moved Julian away from the gruesome room and into another, gently removing the other man's armour and then his own before pulling him onto a bed and curling around the taller man, offering comfort. Julian was Spartan, they did not cry, but Chares felt a few hot tears soak into his chiton. "Grieve my friend, I am here." He whispered, soothing him with whispers and gentle touches.

"I'll kill him." Julian whispered hours later as they lay in the dark.

"Who?"

"Priapus." Julian snarled and got up to don his armour. "Take…. take care of them." He pleaded and then ran from the room even as Chares got up and ran after him, not wasting time on his armour.

He swore when he realised Julian had taken the only ready horse, Sirius. He went back into the house to find frightened slaves who he soothed and together they prepared the three bodies for burial while Chares sent word to Iason's family before having the body sent on for them to bury. Chares stared at the children's bodies sadly and then gently placed them in their coffins. "May Hades be kind to you." He whispered, eyes glowing briefly, as his magic reached out to their souls. He then put his armour on and took Mania from the stables, going after Julian. He tracked him to a Temple and entered, feeling anger and evil in the air. He found a young woman, one of Priapus' virgins and he knew something had gone very wrong. "Where is Julian of Macedon?" he demanded calmly.

"My Lord Priapus had damned him for eternity for his hubris." She answered shakily, still adjusting her clothes.

"Hubris you helped lead him into or else why would you be in Aphrodite's Temple?" he snapped. "Go." He commanded, and she left but not before she was silently cursed for her part in this. Harry left the Temple and returned to Julian's home to find Kyrian there.

"What has happened?" The disowned Prince demanded.

"Iason, Penelope and the children are dead."

"Romans?" He demanded, looking around but the house seemed untouched. Scipio surely would have burnt the place to the ground.

"No. Julian said Penelope killed the children before committing suicide. The physician didn't arrive in time and neither did I. I don't know for sure, but I believe Julian may have killed Iason, there was blood on his sword," Chares explained as they went inside, and he went to wash up, he still had dried blood on him from Penelope.

"Where is Julian?"

"I tracked him as far as Aphrodite's Temple. There was one of Priapus' virgins there…she said Priapus had cursed him for eternity for hubris."

"No…" Kyrian moaned, shaking his head.

"Kyrian I searched, there is no sign of him anywhere. I had Iason's body sent home and told them he died defending Julian's family from Romans. That is what everyone must believe, Scipio sent soldiers to kill him off the battle field. For the sake of the war Julian and his family will become martyrs for the cause. Understand?" He kept eye contact with the younger man who eventually nodded. "Come, we must get back to the army and send word of his death." He gently pulled Kyrian from the house, wishing he had never let Julian out of his sight. He would call on his Mother once alone and see if there was anything she could do.

Once they returned word quickly spread of the cowardly attack by the Romans, Julian's martyrdom spurring the army on.

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Chares knelt before King Andriscus of Macedon and slowly took the oath and accepted the golden ring, one that matched Julian's. Except Julian was gone now and he was taking his place as General. He was the obvious choice to replace Julian, he had been his second and also worked well with Kyrian. He just wished he knew more about this period in history to have any idea what he should try to do. All he knew from some school books was that Macedon had been a Roman province which meant the war was lost in his world. Rome had brought a lot of good things to the world, but it had also brought many cruelties and perhaps he could help change things for the better. Andriscus would have to go if that was the case, the man was not a good King, but Chares would serve for now.

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Chares smiled at the sight of his wife and she smiled shyly back, a small child at her side and Chares felt a pang in his heart at how swiftly Leon was growing. Chares knelt and smiled at the small boy who clung to his mother. "Hello little lion."

"Go to your Father Leon," Aspasia urged gently and slowly the boy toddled over to his Father, unsure. Chares reached out and picked him up as he stood, settling him on the hip that didn't have a sword on it. The boy was soon fascinated by his armour and Chares let him fiddle with it.

"Are you happy Aspasia?" He asked as a servant came forward to take his cloak and sword, without dislodging the child.

"I have everything I need," she assured him quickly.

"But not everything you want?" he sat with Leon on his lap and she sat next to them. "I am sorry," he brushed a loose curl back from her face. "I think you would have been happier with a husband who was not a soldier, one you loved."

"Chares…." She didn't know what to say to that. Yes, she dreamed of a house full of laughter, children and love, but it was just a dream. Love in marriage was rare and she had always known she would marry for her family.

"I will not deny you should you seek comfort while I am away and if I should die I hope you find a loving husband."

"Is it true?" She took a deep breath, "They say Scipio had Julian of Macedon and his family slaughtered." Her hands shook slightly, and he gently gripped them in one of his, the other hand keeping Leon from falling.

"It is true, I found them. You are safe here Aspasia, he will not dare attack this deep in Macedonian territory. But if you do not feel comfortable then you should go to your family in Athens."

She shook her head," we will stay, I will not risk Leon to the road. We are safer here than risking being caught by Romans on the road. Now, have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

"Then I will call for a meal and will join you after you have bathed and put this little one to bed." He kissed her cheek and left her to rest while he washed the dust of the road from his body.

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Chares laughed as he swung Leon up in the air. His son had quickly warmed to him, something he was glad of. He then carried his son to the alter and set him down, showing him what to do in order to pray to his Grandmother. To Chares' delight and little Leon's shock she appeared before them, smiling softly.

"I am proud of you Chares," she gently caressed his cheek. "And it is wonderful to meet you little lion." She kissed the toddlers' cheek and then looked up at Chares. "I am sorry my son, Apollo's curse runs true."

Chares closed his eyes in pain, he had suspected it but to have it confirmed hurt. "I understand Mother," he picked Leon up again, twenty-seven years….it wasn't fair, and he would love to show Apollo some of what he learnt fighting demons.

"As for Julian of Macedon I cannot undo Priapus' curse but there is a way for him to be free one day. He has been cursed into a scroll and can be summoned on the night of the full moon for one month, and only one time per summoner. He will then be theirs for the month. He must be summoned by a woman with Alexander in her name and refrain from being with her sexually for the whole month, only to join with her on the last night and remain within until the sun rises. Then he shall be free."

"And the nasty catch I know Priapus would have added?"

"The longer they refrain from being together the more driven Julian will become, he will be like a wild animal by the end of the month."

"I'm going to kill him," Chares snarled, and Hecate smirked.

"I doubt any would truly mourn him."

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Chares dodged a blow and turned, his sword disembowelling his opponent. He glanced around and saw Kyrian nearby, fighting hard so he made his way to him. They fought back to back, just like Kyrian and Julian used to, forcing the Roman Army back until they were forced to retreat from the onslaught. Julian's death had not broken the Macedonian spirit if anything they were more inspired to destroy Rome and with every battle they got just a little closer. They had crossed into Dalmatia last month, heading north west to reach Italy. Scipio was no longer in command of the army against them, Valerius had been placed in command with Scipio having to follow his orders. They had all been pleased since they thought the Roman had killed Julian, but the change in command had actually made their fight harder. Valerius was a far better commander than Scipio. And Chares had the sinking feeling things would come to a head soon in an unexpected and devastating way, he'd learnt to trust his gut in school, something that had gotten even better over the years. There was nothing he could do until it happened and then he could act to save whoever he could.

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"You were brilliant," Dimitri, Kyrian's second in command, slapped him on the back and Kyrian grinned. He had a fresh, open wound down the left side of his face, but his old grey eyes sparkled. Though his armour was covered in blood, he appeared remarkably unhurt. "It's a pity Julian wasn't here to see this victory. He would have been proud of you today, General. I can guarantee all of Rome is weeping this night."

Kyrian's face was smudged with sweat, dirt, and blood, his long, leather-bound hair tousled, three long, thin braids falling from his left temple down to the middle of his chest. His dark green eyes shimmered from victory and he had the carriage of a man who had no equal. Of a man destined for greatness. Kyrian raised the goblet of wine in his hand and addressed the men in his tent. "I declare this victory for Julian of Macedon. Wherever he is, I know he's laughing at Scipio's defeat." A loud cheer roared from the men. Kyrian took a drink, then looked to the older soldier beside him. "It's a pity Valerius wasn't there with Scipio. I was looking forward to facing him, too. But no matter." He lifted his voice so that all the men gathered inside could hear him. "Tomorrow, we march on Rome herself and we'll bring that bitch to her knees." The men shouted their agreement.

"On the battlefield, with a sword in your hand, you are invincible," the old man said in an awed tone. "By this time tomorrow, you will be ruler of the known world."

Kyrian shook his head. "Andriscus will be ruler of Rome tomorrow. Not I."

The old man looked aghast, then he leaned close to Kyrian's neck and lowered his tone so that only Kyrian could hear him. "There are those who think he is weak. Those who would support you if you decided-"

"No, Dimitri," Kyrian said, cutting him off gently. "I appreciate the thought, but I swore to lead his army for Andriscus and that I shall do until the day I die. I will never betray him."

The look on Dimitri's face showed his confusion. He wasn't sure if he should applaud Kyrian's loyalty or curse it. "You're the only man I know who would turn down the opportunity to rule the world."

Kyrian laughed, "Chares agrees with me, my friend. Kingdoms and empires don't bring happiness, Dimitri. Only the love of a good woman and children do that."

"And conquest," Dimitri added.

Kyrian smiled even wider. "Tonight, at least, that appears to be true."

"Commander?"

Kyrian turned toward the voice behind him to see a man cutting a swath through the men in the tent.

The soldier held out a sealed letter. "A courier brought this. It was discovered on a Roman messenger earlier today."

Taking it from him, Kyrian saw the seal of Valerius the Younger on the outside. Curious, he opened the vellum and read it, and with every word, his panic swelled. His heart beat faster. "My horse!" he shouted, running out of the crowded tent. "Saddle my horse."

"Commander?" He turned to his second in command who had followed him outside. A worried frown creased his tired old brow.

"Dimitri, you're in charge until I return. Pull the army back into the hills, away from the Romans until you hear from me. If I'm not back in a week, then lead the men to Punjara and combine forces with Chares." He wished his friend was here now, but they had split the army to catch the Romans between them.

"Are you sure?" Dimitri did not like this at all.

"Yes." A youth came forward with his black stallion. His heart hammering, Kyrian swung himself up into the saddle.

"Where are you off to?" Dimitri asked.

"Valerius is riding to my villa. I'm going to head him off."

Dimitri grabbed the horse's bridle, horrified. "You can't go alone to meet him."

"I have no time to wait for you. My wife is in danger. I will not hesitate." Kyrian wheeled his horse about and spurred it through the camp, needing to protect his wife at any cost. The days ran together as he rode furiously, changing horses every time he happened upon a village. He never stopped to rest or eat. He was like a demon possessed, with only one thought on his mind. Theone. Theone. Theone.

Dimitri watched him go and then called for a messenger, writing out a quick scroll which he sealed and handed over. "To General Chares, it is urgent."

"Yes, sir." Soon the messenger was galloping out of camp and towards Punjara and the one person who could make Kyrian see sense.

 _TBC…._


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: Not mine_

 _Getting up to where things will be heading into major AU territory._

 **Chapter 9**

Chares nodded to the messenger and took the scroll, quickly reading it and frowning. "Prepare to move out!" he called to his second, Pelias, who looked at him in surprise.

"General?"

"Either the Romans have made it deeper into Macedonian territory than we knew, or they have set a very clever trap for General Kyrian, either way we need to move and do a sweep through before joining up with his army."

"I will see to it immediately," Pelias quickly left the command tent to get the soldiers moving.

When Chares left the tent, he found Mania saddled and with supplies on the back of his saddle. Harry missed Sirius, but his horse had vanished along with Julian and so Mania had remained with him as a replacement. He mounted the war horse and set off for Kyrian's villa.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

He reached his home in the middle of the night. Weary and terrified, he leapt from his horse and pounded on the door for admittance. An old man pulled open the heavy wooden door. "Your Highness?" he asked in disbelief.

Kyrian pushed past the man, his gaze sweeping his grand foyer looking for signs of hostility. Nothing out of the ordinary met his fearful gaze. Still, he wasn't comforted. Not yet. He would not be calm until he saw her with his own eyes. "Where's my wife?"

The old servant looked confused by the question. His mouth opened and closed like a fish. Finally, he spoke. "In her bed, Highness."

Starving, exhausted, and weak, Kyrian ran down the long, columned corridor toward the back of the house. "Theone?" he called as he ran, desperate to see her.

A door at the end of the hallway opened. An incredibly beautiful and petite blond woman came to stand in the hallway. She closed the door behind her and swept a chiding glance over Kyrian's dishevelment. She was alive and unharmed, and she was the most beautiful vision his adoring eyes had ever beheld. Her long, golden hair was tousled, her cheeks bright pink. She clutched a very thin white sheet over her nude body. "Kyrian?" she asked sharply.

Relief rushed through him and tears filled his eyes. She was alive! Thank the gods. Blinking the tears away, he swept her up into his arms and held her close. Never had he been more grateful to the Fates for their mercy.

"Kyrian," she snapped, bristling under his touch. "Put me down. You smell so bad I can barely breathe. Have you any idea how late it is?"

"Aye," he said through the tight knot in his throat as joy pounded through him. He set her down and cupped her face in his hands. He was so tired he could hardly stand or think, but he wouldn't sleep. Not until she was safe. "And I must get you away from here. Get dressed."

She frowned. "Take me where?"

"To Thrace."

"Thrace?" she asked incredulously. "Are you mad?"

"No. I've received word that the Romans are headed this way. I'm taking you to my father for safekeeping. Now hurry!"

She didn't. Instead, her face darkened dangerously as fury snapped in her grey eyes. "Your father? You've not spoken to him in seven years. What makes you think he'd shelter me?"

"My father will forgive me if I ask it."

"Your father will throw us both out. He made his proclamation quite public. I've been embarrassed enough in my lifetime, I don't need to hear him call me a whore to my face. Besides, I don't want to leave my villa. I like it here."

Kyrian disregarded her words. "My father loves me and will do as I ask. You'll see. Now dress."

She looked past his shoulder. "Polydus?" she said to the old servant who had been waiting all that time behind Kyrian. "Have a bath prepared for your master and bring him food and wine."

"Theone-"

She stopped Kyrian's words by placing a hand on his lips. "Hush, my lord. It's the middle of the night. You look dreadful and you smell even worse. Let us clean you, feed you, and put you to sleep, and then in the morning, we can discuss what needs be done to see me safe."

"But the Romans-"

"Did you see any on your way here?"

"Well... no."

"Then there can't be any danger at the moment, now can there?"

Too weary to argue, he conceded. "I suppose not."

"Then come." She took him by the hand and led him to a small room off the main corridor. She helped him out of his armour and into the gilded tub within even as the servants quickly filled it with hot water, ensuring the fire was well fed and the candles were lit. Kyrian leant back in the tub while Theone bathed him.

He captured her hand in his and held it to his whiskered cheek. "You've no idea how much I've missed you. Your touch soothes me like nothing else."

She smiled a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and handed him a cup of wine. "I heard you took Thessaly from the Romans."

"Aye. Valerius was incensed. I can't wait until I march on Rome. I will have her yet, mark my words." Kyrian drained the cup, then set it aside. His body burning, he reached for his wife and pulled her into the tub with him.

"Kyrian!" she gasped.

"Shh," he breathed against her lips. "I would have a kiss from you." She acquiesced, but there was a coldness to her. He could feel it. "What is wrong, my love?" he asked, pulling back. "You seem so distant tonight, as though your thoughts are somewhere else."

Her face softened as she straddled his waist and took him into her body. "I am not distant. I am tired."

He smiled, then groaned as she moved against him. "Forgive me for waking you. I just wanted to know you were safe. I couldn't live if anything ever happened to you." He cupped her face in his hands and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. "I will always love you, Theone. You are the very air I breathe." Kissing her lips, he savoured her taste. She seemed to relax some in his arms as she slowly rode him. All the while her gaze watched him as if she were waiting for something... As soon as he climaxed, Kyrian leaned back in the tub to watch her. He was as weak as a newborn whelp. But he was home, and his wife was his strength. His haven. No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than a strange buzzing started in his head. A wave of dizziness swept through him. And in an instant, he knew what she'd done. "Poison?" he gasped.

Theone scrambled off him and left the tub. Hurriedly, she wrapped a towel around herself. "No."

Kyrian tried to get out of the tub, but another wave of dizziness gripped him. He fell back into the water. He couldn't breathe as thoughts wandered randomly through his drugged mind. But foremost in his mind was the very treachery of the woman he loved. A woman he had given the world to. "Theone, what have you done to me?"

She lifted her chin as she watched him coldly. "I'm doing what you can't. I'm protecting myself. Rome is the future, Kyrian. Not Andriscus. He will never live to ascend to the Macedonian throne." If she said anything more, he did not hear as darkness fell.

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Chares slowed Mania and dismounted out of sight of anyone within the Villa. He tethered the horse and approached slowly on foot, hand on his sword. Something was wrong, he could feel it. It was…. too quiet, the villa should not be so silent at this time of day. Even if Kyrian and Theone were still abed the servants should be bustling about. He slipped over the wall and crouched in the garden before moving on. He came across the first body as he reached the kitchens, a young serving girl cut down as she fled. Inside the kitchen he found the cook and two other slaves. All he found in the silent villa were dead servants until he reached the master's chambers. He pushed the door open and finally found life in the form of the elderly man…. "Polydus?" he called softly, and the old servant looked up at him, tears staining his cheeks.

"General!" he went to stand and stumbled, Chares catching him and helping him to sit on the bed.

"What has happened here?"

"Lady Theone made a deal with Valerius," he admitted sadly. "She has given my Lord Kyrian to the Romans in exchange for her own safety. She drugged him, and they took him away two nights ago. They would not kill me, I was to remain as a message for you so that you would know of Rome's power," his hands were shaking as he spoke, and Chares stoked the fire to warm the room. "Once they had taken my Lord they killed the others and left."

"Why did you not warn Kyrian?"

"If I stayed silent they swore the children would be spared…. they lied. I do not deserve forgiveness," he fell off the bed onto his knees, bowing to present his neck to Chares.

"Kyrian would not wish you dead, you were trying to spare the lives of children. We shall see to the dead and then you will return to Thrace where you will be safe."

"Yes General."

Chares made sure he did the bulk of the work, quickly gathering the bodies and preparing them for burial. A whispered prayer was sent to Hecate to guide their souls and then Chares put a torch to the villa, letting it be their funeral pyre. He made sure the old servant had what he needed and sent him on his way before going to intercept Kyrian's army as they were closer than his own. Valerius would pay for this….as would Theon.

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When the light returned, Kyrian found himself lying naked against a cold stone slab that was tilted at a forty-five-degree angle. His arms and legs had been secured with ropes to winches. He glanced around the medium-sized room to an old table set in one corner, the top of which was covered with all manner of torture instruments. A tall, black-haired man stood looking over the table's offerings, his back to Kyrian. Kyrian felt so alone and betrayed, so completely defenceless. It was a terrifying sensation for someone who had never known vulnerability. The room was stifling hot from the fire in the hearth and early summer. The windows were open, and a gentle Mediterranean breeze blew across the room, carrying the scent of sea, flowers, and olives. Kyrian heard laughter from outside and his stomach knotted. It was too beautiful a day to die...

The man at the table cocked his head. Suddenly, he turned and pinned a menacing glare on Kyrian. Though the man was incredibly handsome, there was a cold sneer on his face that robbed him of his appeal. The man had the cruel, glittering eyes of a viper. They were soulless, calculating, and completely lacking in compassion. "Kyrian of Thrace." He smiled evilly. "At last we meet. Though I'm sure this isn't quite what you had planned, is it?"

"Valerius," he snarled as soon as he saw the banner on the wall over the man's shoulder. He would know that eagle emblem anywhere.

The Roman's smile widened as he crossed the room. There was no respect on Valerius' face only smug satisfaction. Without another word, Valerius turned the winch that held the ropes to Kyrian's limbs. The ropes tightened, pulling at Kyrian's muscles, tearing ligaments and popping his bones from their joints. Kyrian clenched his eyes tight and ground his teeth at the agony that whipped through his body. Tightening the winch even more, Valerius laughed. "Good, you're strong. I hate to torture little boys who whimper and cry right away. It takes all the fun out of it."

Kyrian said nothing. He just had to hold on until Chares came, the demigod had healed him from fatal wounds before, he could heal this.

After locking the winch into place to keep Kyrian's body painfully stretched, Valerius walked over to the table where a number of weapons and tools rested. He hefted a heavy iron mallet in his hands. "Since you are new to my company, allow me to educate you on how Rome deals with her enemies..." He sauntered back to Kyrian, offering Kyrian a goading smirk. "First, we crush your knees. This way, I know you won't be tempted to leave my hospitality until I'm ready for you to." Valerius brought the mallet down over Kyrian's left knee, shattering the joint instantly. Unimaginable pain ripped through him. Biting his lip to keep from crying out, Kyrian gripped the ropes binding his hands. He could feel the warm blood from his cut wrists trail down his forearms. Once he'd shattered Kyrian's other knee, Valerius picked up a hot iron from the hearth and brought it over to him. "I only have one question. Where is your army?"

Kyrian narrowed his eyes but said nothing. By now Dimitri should be with Chares, depending on how long he had remained in a drugged sleep. But to now be somewhere along the coast he had to have been out for several days at least. It was a smart move; an unconscious man could not attempt to escape.

Valerius laid the hot iron against his inner thigh. Hour after hour, day after day with resolute vigour he remained silent no matter the torture or questions. He would not betray his men or Chares to this monster of Rome.

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Dimitri was relieved when the rest of Chares' men arrived, with the entire army assembled they could take on Valerius and rescue their General.

"Do we know what route they have taken?"

"Scouts report they were heading towards the coast." Dimitri answered as Chares studied the maps.

"If they get him on a ship we've lost him," Chares growled right as a solider entered and handed over the latest intelligence, making Chares swear as he read it.

"General?" Dimitri eyed him warily.

"They've taken him to Aquileia."

Dimitri paled, the city was a literal fortress, designed to withstand attack. "Orders sir?"

"Get them moving, we're going to take Aquileia," Chares answered coldly, and Dimitri saluted before leaving the tent.

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Kyrian gasped and choked as water was thrown into his face.

"Don't think you can pass out to escape me. Nor starve until I will it." Valerius grabbed Kyrian's hair and pulled his head viciously, then poured broth down his throat. Kyrian hissed as the salty liquid stung the cuts on his face, his lips. He choked on the broth, but still Valerius poured it into his mouth. "Drink, damn you," Valerius snarled. "Drink!"

Kyrian passed out again, and again the cold water brought him back awake.

Days and nights blended together as time went by while Valerius assaulted him, again and again. Always asking the same question. "Where is your army?" or "Where is General Chares?"

Kyrian never uttered a single word. Never once cried out. He kept his jaw so tightly locked that Valerius had to pry it open to force-feed him.

"Commander Valerius," a soldier said as he came into the room while Valerius again turned the winches against Kyrian's arms and legs. "Forgive my interruption, my lord, but there's an emissary from Thrace wanting an audience with you."

Kyrian's heart stopped beating. For the first time in weeks, a sliver of hope swept through him, overwhelming him with joy. His father ...

Valerius arched a curious brow at his underling. "This should be quite entertaining. By all means, show him in." The soldier vanished.

A few minutes later, an older, well-dressed man entered the room with two Roman soldiers trailing him. The man looked so much like Kyrian that for a moment, Kyrian thought it was his father. As soon as the man was close enough to recognize Kyrian's bloody, misshapen form, he gasped.

His dignity forgotten, his uncle ran to his side. "Kyrian?" he breathed in disbelief, gingerly touching Kyrian's broken arm. His blue eyes were filled with pain and concern. "Dear Zeus, what have they done to you?"

Kyrian's felt tremendous shame and grief at seeing his uncle's sorrow. He wanted to relieve the guilt that swam in Zetes's eyes and to beg him to ask his father to forgive him. When Kyrian opened his mouth to speak, all that came out was a hoarse croak. He hurt so badly that his unclenched teeth chattered from the weight of his physical suffering. Kyrian's throat was so sore and parched that he choked, but by sheer force of will, he finally spoke through trembling lips. "Uncle."

"Can it be, he can actually speak?" Valerius asked, joining them. "He's said nothing in four weeks. Nothing other than this..." Again, he laid a hot brand to Kyrian's thigh. Clenching his teeth, Kyrian jerked and hissed.

"Cease!" Zetes cried, pushing Valerius away from his nephew. He tenderly cupped Kyrian's bruised face in his hands. Tears fell down Zetes's cheeks as he tried to clean the blood away from Kyrian's swollen lips. He looked up at Valerius. "I have ten wagons of gold and jewels. His father promises even more if you release him. I have been authorized to surrender Thrace to you. And his sister, the Princess Althea, has offered herself to you as a slave. All you have to do is let me take him home."

No! Kyrian's inner scream could not be heard, the word was lodged in his burning throat.

"Perhaps. I'll let you take him home... After he's executed."

"No!" Zetes said. "He is a prince, and you-"

"He is no prince. Everyone knows he was disowned. His father was quite public with his decree."

"And he has recanted it," Zetes insisted. He looked back at Kyrian, his eyes kind and soothing. "He wanted me to tell you he didn't mean what he said to you. He was foolish and blind when he should have trusted and listened to you. Your father loves you, Kyrian. All he wants is for you to come home where he can welcome you and Theone with open arms. He begs you to forgive him."

Those last words burned through Kyrian more painfully than Valerius' iron brands. It wasn't his father who should apologize, his father wasn't the one who had been a fool. It was Kyrian who had been cruel to a man who had never done anything other than love him. The agony of it swept through him anew. Gods have mercy on them both, for his father had been right all along.

Zetes glanced to Valerius. "He will give you anything for his son's life. Anything!"

"Anything," Valerius repeated. "How very tempting, but how stupid would I have to be to release the one man who has come close to defeating us?" He glared at Zetes. "Never." Valerius took the dagger from his belt. Roughly, he grabbed the three long, thin commander's braids at Kyrian's temple and sawed them off. "Here," he said, handing them to Zetes. "Take those to his father and tell him that is all of his son he'll ever get from me."

"No!"

"Guards, see to it His Highness is taken away."

Kyrian watched as his uncle was seized and dragged from the room.

"Kyrian!" Zetes called in fear for his nephew.

Kyrian struggled against his restraints, but his body was so sore and broken that all he succeeded in doing was hurting himself more. He wanted to call Zetes back. He wanted to tell him how sorry he was for all he'd said to his parents. Don't let me die without their knowing.

"You can't do this!" Zetes screamed an instant before the doors slammed shut, cutting him off.

Valerius turned to his servant. "Fetch my mistress."

As soon as the servant was gone, he returned to Kyrian. He sighed as if greatly disappointed. "It appears our time together has ended. If your father is so desperate for your return, then it is only a matter of time before he marches against me. I certainly can't take a chance on him actually rescuing you, now can I? And if he rode I know your friend Chares would bring his army as well and that cannot be allowed to happen. First the great Julian of Macedon," Valerius sneered, "now Kyrian of Thrace and soon it will be Chares of Athens and with the three of you dead Macedon, Thrace and Greece will fall."

Kyrian closed his eyes and turned his head away from Valerius' triumphant sneer. In his mind, he saw his father on that last, fateful day as the two of them stood, toe to toe, in the centre of the throne room. Julian had dubbed that day the Clash of the Titans. For neither he nor his father had been willing to listen or to yield. He heard the words he'd said to his father. Words no son should ever utter to a parent. The agony of it was a hundred times more severe than anything Valerius had dealt him.

While he grieved over his actions, the doors of his torture chamber opened to admit Theone. She walked into the room with her head held high, like a queen holding court. She stopped next to Valerius and gave him a warm, inviting smile.

Kyrian stared at her as the weight of her betrayal coursed through him. Let this be a nightmare. Dear Zeus, please don't let this be real. It was more than his broken body and soul could take.

"You know, Kyrian," Valerius said as he wrapped his arms around Theone and nuzzled her neck. "I will commend you on your choice of wife. She is exceptional in bed, isn't she?"

It was the cruellest blow yet dealt him.

Theone met Kyrian's eyes without shame while Valerius circled behind her, cupped her breasts in his hands and kneaded them. There was no love on her face. No remorse. Nothing. She stared at him as if he were a stranger.

It cut him all the way to his battered soul.

"Come, Theone, let us show your husband what he interrupted the night he came home."

Valerius removed the clip from her himation and let it fall to the floor. He pulled her naked body into his arms and kissed her.

Kyrian's heart splintered at the sight of Theone removing Valerius' armour. The sight of her eagerly welcoming his touch. Unable to bear it, he closed his eyes and turned away. But still he heard them. He heard his wife begging for Valerius to fill her. Heard her moaning in pleasure. And when she climaxed in the arms of his enemy, he felt his heart wither and die. At last Valerius had broken him. He let the pain take him then. Let it wash over him until he felt nothing at all. Nothing but utter and complete desolation.

When they were finished, Valerius sauntered over to him. He wiped his wet hand across Kyrian's face and Kyrian cursed the scent he knew so well. "Have you any idea how much I love the smell of your wife on my body?"

Kyrian spat in his face.

Enraged, Valerius pulled a dagger from the table and embedded it savagely in Kyrian's stomach. Kyrian gasped as the cold metal invaded his body. Maliciously, Valerius rotated his wrist and twisted the knife, pushing it in deeper.

"Tell me, Theone," Valerius said, his eyes never leaving Kyrian's as he pulled the dagger out and left him weak and panting. "How should I kill your husband? Should I behead him as befitting a prince?"

"No," she said as she wrapped her himation around her and secured it with the brooch Kyrian had given her on their wedding day. "He is the spirit and backbone of the Macedonian rebels. You can't afford to make him a martyr. Were I you, I'd crucify him like a common thief. Let him stand as an example to Rome's enemies to know that there is no honour or glory in assaulting Rome."

Valerius smiled cruelly, then turned to face her. "I like the way your mind works." He kissed her lightly on the cheek, then dressed himself.

"Say good-bye to your husband while I make arrangements." He left them alone.

Kyrian struggled to breathe through his pain as Theone finally approached him. His body trembled from rage and agony. Still, her gaze was blank. Cold. "Why?" he asked.

"Why?" she repeated. "Why do you think? I was the nameless daughter of a prostitute. I grew up hungry and poor with no choice except to let any man use me as he saw fit."

"I sheltered you," he rasped through his split, bloody lips. "Loved you. I kept you safe from anyone who would have hurt you."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I am not about to let you war against Rome while I sit at home in fear of them tearing down my walls to get to you. I don't want to end up like Julian's wife, executed in my own bed, or sold into slavery. I've come too far to go back to scrounging for scraps, selling my body. I want my security and I will do anything to protect it."

She couldn't have hurt him any worse. She had never seen him as anything other than a rich pocket. No, he couldn't believe that. He refused to believe it. There had to have been a moment, just one, when she had cared for him. Surely, he couldn't have been that blind? "Did you ever love me?"

She shrugged. "If it's any consolation, you were the best lover I've ever known. I will certainly miss you in my bed."

Kyrian let out an agonized bellow of rage.

"Damn, Theone," Valerius said as he returned. "I should have let you torture him. I never once got that much pain out of him."

The soldiers came in with a large cross. They laid it on the floor next to the table, then cut Kyrian down. His limbs broken, he sank to the floor. Roughly, they picked him up and dropped him over the wood. Kyrian continued to watch Theone. Not even pity graced her brow. She merely looked on in morbid fascination. Again, he saw his parents' stricken faces when he had left his home the day of the wedding. Heard Zetes's offer to Valerius. Kyrian had betrayed them all for her. And now she couldn't even pretend to be sorry for what she'd done to him. What she had cost his family and his country. He was Greece's second last hope to stave off Roman tyranny. He was the only thing that stood between their people and slavery, Chares would stand alone now, how long until he too fell? Even demigods could fall, the legends showed that. With one act of treachery, she had laid waste to all their dreams of freedom. And all because he was a stupid fool...

His father's final, parting words rang in his ears. 'She doesn't love you, Kyrian. No woman will ever be able to love you and you're a damned fool if you ever believe otherwise!'

A soldier placed a metal spike over his wrist and held it there as another drew back a heavy iron hammer.

The Roman guard brought it down on the spike...

"Sir!" another soldier burst into the room.

"What is it?" Valerius demanded.

"We're under attack!" the soldier answered and Valerius looked out the window to see that yes, the outer walls were under attack. He should have taken Kyrian all the way to Rome, no one would dare attack there. But he had been too eager to see him dead, leaving himself vulnerable. Attacking Aquileia was mad but if any man alive could do it, other than the broken one before him, it was Chares of Athens and he had no doubt that was who was attacking in an attempt to free Kyrian.

Barely conscious from the agony and blood loss Kyrian still knew who it had to be. "Cha….res…" he had come for him, he hadn't been abandoned. Could even Chares reach him in time? He had to hold on.

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Chares watched as the Ballista fired at the walls of the city, the rock taking the wall well, for now. They and the archers were providing good covering fire for the siege towers as they were moved slowly into place to attack the walls. A covered battering ram was heading for the gates. Several groups were also tunnelling to undermine the walls. He would take the city however he could, he just had to take it fast. According to Kyrian's uncle, Zetes, who they had met on the road, Kyrian had still been alive when the man had tried to ransom him. The man had offered them the treasure should they find Kyrian alive, but he needed no treasure to push him to rescue his remaining friend.

Chares walked towards the front, calling up his magic, and the men fell back in awe and a little fear as the rumours were proved to them. He focused on an area where the ballista were weakening the wall and pushed, magic lashing out at the weakened stone, breaching it with a loud crash. "For Kyrian!" Chares screamed, drawing his sword as he charged, magic shielding him and those nearby from the Romans fire as they raced for the breach.

…

Kyrian choked on blood, trying to breath as the cross was hoisted up in the back gardens of the barracks, his body screaming in agony at the torture. He could hear the fighting now, see fires, but he knew, it was too late for him. He looked down at Theone and just wished he could tell his Father he was sorry…. could beg Chares to leave before he died too…. his soul cried out in agony, wanting vengeance for all the betrayals, even as his vision went black.

 _TBC….._


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: Not mine_

 **Chapter 10**

Chares led the charge into the fortified city, heading for the villa Zetes had told them Kyrian was being held in. Dimitri fought at his side, just as desperate to reach his General in time. Any Roman soldier who approached died on their blades, civilians were shoved back into the nearest building and told to stay. The men knew better than to kill women and children unless given no other choice because they attacked in a mob or something.

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Kyrian stretched out his healed limbs, amazed by how strong he felt now. He ran his tongue across his teeth and frowned, that would take some getting used to. He glanced down at his bare chest to see the bow and arrow mark that marked him as what he had become. Part of him wondered if it was worth it, serving Artemis for an eternity of night. He shook it off and looked out over the town, seeing where Chares had breached the walls, fired scattered around and the sounds of battle. He grabbed a fallen sword and slipped into the shadows, seeking Valerius and his Vengeance.

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Chares and Dimitri broke into the villa and found themselves facing Valerius and six of his men. They moved together, fighting back to back, even as Valerius stayed back from the fight. Chares got frustrated and a blast of magic sent most of the men slamming into the wall to lie in crumpled heaps.

"Get Valerius!" Dimitri lunged at the remaining men and Chares hesitated before taking off after the General.

Chares cornered him in a courtyard…with an empty yet bloodstained Roman cross. He saw the confusion on Valerius' face and knew this was where Kyrian had been. The Roman turned to face him, and Chares smirked.

"Chares of Athens I presume? You're too late." Valerius was shocked, there was no way the Macedonian Army could breach the defences….and yet somehow, they had. They were meant to break with first Julian and now Kyrian's demise at the hands of Rome. Yet here was the insolent young Athenian, facing him with death in his eyes. He knew the rumours, that this new General was also a demigod, but he didn't believe them.

"Valerius. You will pay for what you have done to Kyrian," Chares snarled. They circled and then the fight began.

Neither noticed the man watching them from the shadows. Kyrian was torn, he wanted to jump in and help Chares, but Artemis' rules had been clear. Dark Hunters did not interact with people, other than the Squires. He should leave, got and find Theone to make her pay for her part and yet he couldn't make himself move, eyes locked on the duelling duo. Valerius was older than Chares, had been leading armies for decades…but he was fully human. Chares was younger, but he was a brilliant General and also a demigod, one with his godly parents' favour.

More fighters spilled into the courtyard, but they stilled to watch the Generals fight until Valerius overextended and Chares' blade slid into the shocked man's chest, killing him instantly. While they watched in shock Kyrian moved quietly behind them, killing several, making sure they couldn't threaten his friend. He took in the form he knew intimately and for the first time it hit him, Chares would never have betrayed him. "Goodbye," he whispered before leaving to kill as many Romans as he could without being seen.

Chares spun, hearing the whispered word but there was no sign of Kyrian. He looked back at the empty cross as he wiped the blood from his blade…he had the sinking feeling his friend was not dead, not anymore. As some of his men rushed in he set them to guarding the body of Valerius until the battle ended and the city was theirs. He had a message to send to Rome after all. He knew he never would have considered such a thing, even with Riddles body, but that Harry Potter had died when he stepped into a portal to hell.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Kyrian paused in walking to look back at the once fortified city. He turned at an odd sound to see a tall young man, leaning against a staff, watching him with the strangest eyes he had ever seen.

"Come Kyrian, the sun will rise soon."

"Are you Acheron?"

"Yes, and I have a lot to teach you," Acheron turned and Kyrian followed, glancing back one more.

"Don't you dare die Chares," he whispered with a prayer to Hecate.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

" _Don't you dare die Chares."_

He closed his eyes as he heard the voice carried on the wind. "He gave his soul to Artemis, didn't he?" he asked without bothering to turn around.

"I am sorry Chares, I could not interfere." Hecate moved to stand beside the man she had claimed as her son, and she had never regretted it.

"I know."

"Be careful my son, I do not wish Rome to destroy all three of Macedon's generals."

"I will," he promised, and he felt her presence leave him. They would march on Rome within the week, before that they had to consolidate their hold on the city.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares pulled Mania up to look out at their target. They'd done it, Rome was before them and ready for the taking. What was left of the Roman army was arrayed before the walls, ready to stop them. He knew by now the legions from Africa and Spain were on their way but if they did things right the city would be theirs before either army could arrive. They couldn't let this become a siege or they would end up trapped between armies.

"I can't believe we are actually here," Dimitri murmured, and Chares nodded.

"Prepare the men and the siege engines. We need a way through those walls quickly," he ordered. Dimitri left to ensure they were ready and Chares went to see the men, offering encouragement. No Macedonian army had ever made it this close. They were excited but also thirsting for revenger, Julian and Kyrian had been popular among the men and well loved. At Chares' signal they surged forward towards the city.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares nodded at his cheering men as he walked among them, helmet off, cloak a little torn and mud stained. He moved through the wounded and dying, doing what he could for them, even if it was only to ease their passing. The city was theirs, for now. The question was, could they keep it against the legions approaching from the south and west?

"General!"

"What is it Dimitri?" Chares washed the blood from his hands and stood, leaving the man he had just finished treating.

"We have gathered the Senators in the Forum," Dimitri told him, and Chares nodded, following him through the silent city, the inhabitants still in shock that the city had fallen at all, let alone in just over a day. They walked into the Forum to find the gathered Senators surrounded by his soldiers who were sneering at the old, corpulent men who thought the world was theirs for the taking.

"I am General Chares; your city has fallen to the Macedonian Army."

"Not for long! You cannot defeat all the legions."

"Perhaps, but you must consider whether you will be alive to see it. Scipio has been defeated before, that is why he ran from us and took the Spanish command," he smirked at the looks of outrage. "Now, where is Senator Gaius, son of General Valerius?" he demanded coldly.

"I am Senator Gaius," one of the younger Senators announced, stepping forward slightly, head held high.

"Then it is my duty to inform you of the death of your Father in battle after his cowardly attack on and killing of Prince Kyrian of Thrace."

"He was disinherited."

"His Father retracted it. Despites this he dishonoured him by crucifying him."

"I suppose I am now to die for his actions?" It was obvious Gaius was mad but also scared and Chares grinned.

"Where is your family?"

"You will not touch them!"

Chares looked to a handful of his men. "Find the Senators home and bring the family, uninjured."

They waited in silence, the Senators standing close together, eyeing the soldiers warily as they stood on guard, hands on their swords.

Finally, the soldiers returned leading a woman with five young children at her side and then a woman carrying a toddler. "Sir! The Senators wife and five sons plus a wet nurse for the sixth boy we have been told is the Senators bastard."

Chares studied the children, seeing how the youngest was to the side of the others. He knelt and smiled at the small boy, no older than five or six. "Hello, what is your name?" he motioned the boy forward and the soldiers tightened their grip on his mother to keep her quiet.

The boy looked to his Mother and then his Father who sneered. Slowly he shifted closer to Chares. "Valerius."

"And how old are you?"

"Five sir," he remembered to be polite and Chares smiled.

"I am General Chares." He saw the boys' eyes widen at his name. "Heard of me?" Valerius nodded. Chares smiled and reached out to ruffle dark hair before standing. "The children shall be coming to Macedon where they will be raised within my household and educated properly." He looked to the wet nurse. "Will you care for the children on the journey or do we need to find someone else?"

She bowed her head, glancing to her mistress.

"As of today, you are no longer a slave. You can remain here, come with us or be given supplies to return to your home."

Cassia looked up at the Macedonian General, seeing kindness in those incredible green eyes. "I would like to stay with the children Sir."

"You will travel with our returning wounded," he told her before looking to one of the soldiers. "Take her and the children back to the house and help them back for the journey," Chares ordered even as Gaius took his wife's arm as she was pushed over to join the one hundred and ten Senators. Chares stared at the gathered Senators, he knew enough of his own worlds history to know they should have lost this war and Rome should have taken control of Macedon, Greece and Thrace. Instead he was standing victorious inside the Roman Forum with the city at his mercy. He knew what many would do in his boots…. but he couldn't do it, he couldn't order the city looted and then torched. "Kill them, burn the Senate and the Forum but not the city. Tell the men to take what they want as treasure," he paused but then continued, it was expected after all, "slaves as well. No killing unless attacked and no rape."

The Senators began yelling in fear as the men drew their swords and approached. Chares turned and left them to it, not wanting to watch no matter how angry he was. He left the city for the camp, watching as the wounded were loaded up for transport. Gaius' children and ex-slave were soon added to their number and on their way back to Macedon.

"What now?" Dimitri asked.

"Split what was Kyrian's army into groups. Find the legions and harry them, do not directly engage but wear them down and thin them out, slow them down so by the time they reach the city they will be easy to destroy."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Aspasia went to meet the soldiers, heart in her throat. Word had reached them of Kyrian's death at Roman hands, please let her husband still live. She saw the men and the carts with them, as well as a woman and six children.

"A letter from the General."

Aspasia took the scroll and unwound it to read her husband's words. She finished and looked up at the nervous ex-slave, smiling gently at her. "Welcome Cassia," she had not expected this, but the poor girl was obviously scared she had traded one Master for another. "Come, the children could obviously use some rest in actual beds as well as good, hot meals."

"Mother?" Leon walked over, looking at the other children in confusion. He looked like a human six-year-old already and it scared her, she had prayed so much he would take after Chares instead of her.

"Leon, they will be part of the household from now on." She rested a hand on his shoulder as they remained in the shadows. Chares had ensured the house was safe for them, light was allowed into certain areas of the estate, but direct sunlight was kept from the majority of room and the courtyard. They could both take some sunlight, but it was better to be safe than sorry. The older boys were obviously unhappy to be there but the younger two she doubted truly understood what had happened. They were ushered inside and then upstairs to the bedrooms where they had to double up for now.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares looked around at the slaughter ground the land before the walls of Rome had become. Thanks to Kyrian's men, the legions that had reached them were exhausted and thinned out considerably. They had held the city and decimated the Roman Army, they had done the supposedly impossible. He looked at his men and saw that while happy they were also exhausted. "See to the wounded and separate our dead from the Romans," he ordered. "Then set sentries and a watch rotation before getting some sleep," they cheered at his orders, all of them looking forward to sleep, even if it was just rolled in their cloaks on the ground.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Kyrian sat staring into the campfire, mind swirling with the news Acheron had given him. Chares had done it, he had taken Rome and vengeance on Valerius' family. He just wished he had been there to have his friends back. If only he had listened to those who loved him, he should have never married Theone.

 _TBC…._


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: Not mine_

 **Chapter 11**

Chares watched as the walls of Rome were brought down fully, leaving only rubble. They were leaving behind a defeated city with no defences from its neighbours. There were still some legions left but they were in far off Gaul and Egypt, it would take them too long to return should others turn their attention to the city. Rome's future was out of his hands though, they were returning home for good, hopefully. Many of the higher ranked Roams were going with them as hostages and slaves, another way of slowing down their ability to rebuild, especially with all the treasure they had taken too.

The men were exhausted and very ready to return to their families so there was no messing around when it came time to pack up and begin the long trip back to Macedonia.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Aspasia looked out as she heard a horse, seeing a lone rider mounted on a war horse. She stood and left Cassia with the children as she hurried to the gates. The horse pulled up and the rider had barely dismounted before she had thrown herself at him, trusting her husband to catch her and he did. "Welcome home General," she whispered, hands clinging to his armour.

Chares wrapped his arms around her, bending his head to inhale the scent of her hair. "I have missed you Aspasia," he admitted softly. They separated, and she smiled up at him, relieved to see him home and well. "You are well?"

"Very. Our son is growing fast and strong. Cassia and the children are cared for," only Valerius and Zarek appreciated the care, the older boys were becoming an issue and she knew Chares had heard it in her voice. Perhaps with him home they would settle down and accept their new lives.

Chares led his horse to the stable where Mania was taken be servants, along with his gear. They then went back into the house to find Leon waiting, fidgeting nervously. He removed his cloak and knelt before his son. "Will you say hello Leon?" at his question the boy ran forward and into his arms. Chares hugged his son tightly, able to feel the other boys watching in confusion, he had no doubt that very little physical affection had been given in the Senators house. He pulled back a little and smiled at Leon, "I have missed you son."

"I missed you Father. Are you home to stay?"

"I hope so. The war is over now, the walls of Rome turned to dust," he assured the boy before standing. He saw Valerius and the toddler and smiled at them, seeing the sullen, angry looks on the two older boys. Aesculus, Lucius, Marius, and Markus had not accepted that Rome was no longer a major power or that their parentage mattered.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares smiled as he saw the first signs on his wife of their second child, placing his hand over the bump, making her smile. Aspasia looked like a woman in her early twenties now, their son looked to be ten. It scared him to see them age so quickly. Leon had become an excellent big brother to Valerius and Zarek. Their actual brothers had eventually been split up and sent into other households to try and force them to see the truth of their circumstances. Cassia was now happily married to Dimitri, that had been a shock, and the two had moved to Thrace.

"Will it be a boy or a girl?" she asked drowsily.

"A girl I think," he brushed her curls back, kissing her shoulder. "I love you Aspasia," he whispered against her skin and she choked back a sob, turning in his arms to kiss him.

"I love you Chares," she smiled shakily at her husband, she had hoped…but she had never dreamed that they would come to love each other truly. It made their circumstances worse, he was immortal or close to and she had only a few more years to live. She would not see this child to adulthood.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares smiled as he watched the boys play, picking Zarek up and settling him in his lap when the youngest tired. Inside Aspasia was in labour and he had been kicked out until it was over. It felt like it took forever but three hours later they were allowed in to find a tired Aspasia propped up in bed and the midwife handed the wrapped bundle over.

"Congratulations General, you have a daughter," the woman announced, and Chares smiled, pulling the blankets back to look at the baby who had wisps of dark hair on her hair. He then knelt to let the children see her.

"Lily," Aspasia offered from the bed, for the woman who had raised her husband as her own.

"Lily," he agreed.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares knelt before his King and then stood and followed when beckoned. A scroll was handed over and he skimmed it…the walls of Rome were being rebuilt. "they cannot yet have the manpower for any kind of serious army."

"The Gaul's have claimed the city and the army as their own," a scout reported, and Chares frowned. That was not good at all, they could raise an army relatively quickly that could be a threat.

"What are your orders?" he looked to his King. King Perseus was new to the throne and had not seen war.

"You are our greatest General, what would you advice?"

Chares thought about it. "Diplomacy should at least be attempted; the Gaul's have no quarrel with us. They may not seek to reclaim the whole of the Republic's territory. If that fails, then we will need to raise the armies. We should contact Athens and Thrace as well."

"Thank you General. I shall consider the options."

With that he was dismissed for now, so he returned home to pen his own letter to Dimitri who was now General in Thrace.

Thankfully, at least for now, they were not interested in conquest so far east. There was the occasional boarder skirmish but not all out war.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Chares cradled his wife close even as his magic sank into her body, easing her pain. He hated to see her aging before his eyes, but Apollo's curse had been too strong in her blood. The children stayed at first but as the time passes he had sent them out, not wanting them to see her die. Leon had been devastated and terrified, he understood he was aging like an Apollite and not a human, this could be his fate one day. To everyone's joy Lily was aging slower than her brother, faster than a human yes, but not as fast as an Apollite child should. It gave hope that she would escape their fate. He looked up and frowned, "Leon?"

"There is a man here Papa, he says he wants to see…" Leon looked at his Mother, agony in his eyes, and she managed a pained smile. "I…I think he's a Daimon," he admitted, and Aspasia groaned.

"Will you stay with her?"

"Yes," Leon moved to take her hand while Chares left the room to see why a Daimon dared come to his home.

Chares stared down the taller man, not at all intimidated. "You are not welcome here."

"Not even if I can save your wife General? She is my cousin, my blood," he answered, pulling back his hood, revealing golden blonde hair and blue eyes.

"I am well aware of how you live Daimon. Aspasia has made her choice and I will honour it. Leave with your life now or die where you stand," Chares lifted his hand, flame dancing in his palm, making the Daimon step back in shock and fear of the deadly flame.

Hidden in the shadows, Kyrian watched the confrontation. Technically he shouldn't be here, and he knew it. But he had figured out years ago what Aspasia was and had detoured, knowing she would be twenty-seven now. If she turned Daimon he would kill her himself, but it appeared Chares had it all under control. His old friend looked unchanged from the last time he had seen him, not surprising. He had seen Chares heal impossible wounds, he had no doubt the man was immortal. Surely, he was the sort of person an exception to the rules could be made for?

"She is Apollo's direct blood; her line must survive."

Chares blinked as he realised what the Daimon meant, should his bloodline die out, Apollo would die as well. "It is her choice. We have children, her blood will continue. Leave or die," he slammed the gates, glaring and the Daimon retreated while Chares returned to his wife.

Kyrian quickly killed the Daimon, glad Chares had sent him away, although he had not heard what they had discussed. He would do his best to watch over their family line and should any descendant turn, deal with them himself. He owed Chares that much.

Chares cradled Aspasia as she gasped for air, body so frail he was afraid of hurting her. the children had returned, solemn and grieving, but they did not want her to die alone. As midnight hit her body collapsed into dust and they began to cry. Lily scrambled into Chares' arms and he rocked her gently while Valerius let Zarek cry into his shoulder. Chares gathered the dust and they put it in an urn along with a coin for the ferryman. Hecate appeared to the family and smiled on them as she took Aspasia's soul to the Elysian Fields herself.

Seventeen years later she returned for Leon's soul as the family once again grieved a life cut short too soon.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Valerius and Zarek grew into good men with Leon as a big brother and Chares as their family. All of them were very protective of Lily as the only girl and baby of the family. Valerius found a love in the land and Chares ensured he had a farm where he truly enjoyed working. He eventually married a young woman, Agrippina, and they raised four children on the farm, none of whom ever returned to Rome.

Zarek joined the army and enjoyed a soldier's life, remaining at home when not with the army. He and Lily eventually married and had two children, both boys. Lily lived until she was thirty-three before dying in the same manner as her Mother and brother had, with her Father helping ease the pain and her Grandmother coming for her soul.

Chares retired from the army in 128BC and basically vanished unless you were family. He had no desire to remain in the public life. The villa was given to Zarek, Lily and their family and he retired to the countryside, close to Valerius' farm.

Valerius died peacefully in his sleep at the age of fifty-seven, a week after his wife. Zarek's death was not so peaceful and left his Father wondering when no body was recovered.

Their elder brothers had never accepted their new lives and had returned to Rome where they had raised trouble against Macedon. Zarek had been General by then and had led the defence of their boarders. Reports said that it was Marius who had killed Chares' youngest son, mysteriously all four had been reported dead the next day.

With all of his children dead Chares left, unable to bear the grief of watching his grandchildren die, especially Lily and Zarek's' who aged like their mother had. Instead he changed his name and moved to Egypt, letting the world forget about General Chares.

 _TBC…._


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: not mine_

 _In the middle of moving so next 2 weeks will be very thin on updates._

 **Chapter 12**

He had been living in Egypt for decades when word spread of a new leader in Rome, Julius Caesar. He'd been wondering if he would still rise to power. The Julian family had been one of those not hit too hard by the end of the war and the hostages they had taken back to Macedonia. So, he packed up and headed for Rome, everyone he knew was dead now, his family spread around, and he had never met those alive now, although he did keep a magical eye on them. He'd been an enemy of Rome, there would be no pictures or statues of any sort which would make it easier to hide and observe.

Rome had changed since their defeat at his hands, the population was mixed even at the highest level. Whereas before the patrician families had been Roman or at least Italian, foreigners now held most of the power and several names he remembered from history were missing. Caesar was the first to emerge since Rome's destruction and he wanted to see how much would follow the history he knew.

He entered Rome as a merchant, selling grain from Egypt, a booming business, because it gave him money to rub shoulders with the wealthy citizens and also gave him relative freedom of movement. He took on the name Hadrian, it felt good to be getting closer to his own name, there were names he could use that were closer, but they would mark him as foreign and he didn't want that kind of scrutiny. He bought warehouses for his grain and then a villa which he quickly had staffed. He had no plans to marry but he'd had no plans to marry in Greece either.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"Ah, Hadrian!" a booming voice greeted him, and Hadrian smiled at his host. "We had begun to think you lost in inventory," Marcus Antonius Creticus laughed and Hadrian shook his head.

"No, everything is well in hand. I apologise for my tardiness," he offered the Father or the famous Mark Antony, well famous back home in Britain anyway. He hadn't met the man, he was away fighting in what would one day be Germany.

"Come, dinner is to be served soon," He led Hadrian from the atrium with its impressive water feature and into the triclinium where other guests were already reclining at the table. Hadrian joined them, listening to the gossip as he accepted a goblet of wine. Rome was beginning to regain the arrogance that had led to their attacking Macedon and Greece before. Although it was amusing that more of the world spoke Greek than Latin. Macedon had actually regained a good part of Alexander's empire once Rome had fallen, further cementing Hellenistic culture in the world's memory.

"Have you heard? Caesar plans to invade Britannia. He says that they have been invaded by Celtic tribes who are aiding the Helvetii," one of the young men said and Hadrian paid close attention. Many in Rome were of Gallic descent thanks to their taking over after Rome had fallen to him, but there were many tribes and they had always wared with each other so a war against some of the tribes was not strange. And he was pretty sure it had happened in his world…the Gallic Wars! Interesting they were still happening. But Rome did want to rebuild its Empire and Gaul was a good place to start. He stayed until late and then returned to his own villa, unsure if he should do anything. He'd already changed history in a big way by conquering Rome, but this wasn't his world, not with gods and Apollites and everything else. Who was to say history wouldn't have gone this way even without him? His Mother had told him he was free to act as he wished after all.

He stripped down and stretched out on his bed, staring at the ceiling as he thought things over, it wasn't his job to change history. His job was to help humanity against Daimons, hopefully held the Dark Hunters…had he done any of that? He had married one of Apollo's direct descendants, adding not only Hecate's blood to the line but his own and he knew it had an effect from Lily. Had that been part of the plan? His children had been less affected by sunlight as well, even if Leon hadn't had an extended life. he could sit back and watch history happen but that would be very boring. And sitting back wasn't something he was good at.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Hadrian stood in the crowd as Caesar walked through the Forum, would it happen? Today was the Ides of March, would Julius Caesar be betrayed and killed? In the end, nothing happened, and Caesar attended a quiet Senate meeting where he was proclaimed Dictator for life and given control of Rome, his nephew Octavius at his side.

 _TBC…_

 _Very short, sorry, but very busy packing._


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

 _Expect time skips or it will take forever to get to modern events._

 **Chapter 13**

The first time he stepped foot in England he felt his magic sing in recognition, despite this not being the England of his birth. He moved away from the Roman's he had arrived with and easily slipped in among the Celtic tribes where his skills were very welcome as a Healer. Where possible he protected the people from the Roman expansion, becoming something of a myth to the Roman Legions as they pushed deeper into the land. He didn't mind being a myth, he knew better than anyone how much history would be studied and how good pictures would become in the future. He would have to live in it one day and did not want too many paintings or anything to have an accurate image of him.

He'd met one of the local gods, well goddesses, when he had defended a young family from a group of drunken Roman Centurions. Morrigán had appeared to him later that night, curious over the presence of a foreign demigod. He had sworn to her that he meant no harm to the local people or gods and that his presence was not some Greek plan to defeat the Celtic gods. So, now he worked under her limited protection which was nice. He remained in the background, content to be mostly alone.

Eventually, Rome withdrew from the islands, forced to defend the east from the Persians and a resurgent Macedonian Empire. It seemed that his sacking of Rome had given Macedon a lot more power and every time Rome thought they had them beat they would rise up again and cause trouble. Scavenging an abandoned Roman fort, he found something that shocked him, a scroll that when he unrolled had a very lifelike picture of a man, he had known very well…

A naked Julian of Macedon stood posed in a casual position, just a hint of a devilish smile on his face. He opened the scroll further and saw the familiar symbol of three intersecting triangles and a beguiling image of three women united by swords. Beneath that was intricate Greek script and his eyes widened as he read it. Oh Julian….this wasn't a mere drawing. "Can you hear me old friend?" he whispered, running his fingers over the heavy parchment. "I am so sorry."

Anraí tucked the scroll into his bag and left the abandoned fort, it would either fade to ruins or be taken over by the locals. He began walking, hood over his head to protect himself from the sun as he walked towards the woods where his hut was. he'd become something of the 'eccentric wizard' to the locals but he didn't mind that, it gave him his privacy. It was odd using such a different name, but it wasn't not really, it was the Irish version of Henry which was the origin of the name Harry. He'd picked it to really distance himself from the Greek and Roman names he'd used previously. He'd used Hadrian for a while, but a certain Emperor had then made the name very much attached to the idea of Rome. at least once the Normans invaded, he could use Henry.

He removed the scroll form his bag before tending the fire and preparing a meal, ensuring there would be enough for another later. He re-read the scroll as he ate, he wasn't sure it would respond to him since it seemed aimed at women, but he had the advantage of his own magic to help. Either way, he would find out at midnight. The Greek words flowed across the scroll and he wondered who had written it, definitely not Priapus, he couldn't rhyme let alone write something like this.

 _Possessed of supreme strength and of unrivalled courage, he was blessed by the_

 _gods, feared by mortals, and desired by all women who saw him. He was a man who_

 _knew no law, respected no quarter._

 _His skill in battle and his superior intellect rivalled the very names of Achilles,_

 _Odysseus, and Heracles, and 'twas written that not even the mighty Ares himself_

 _could ever defeat him in arms._

 _As if the gift of the mighty War God wasn't enough, 'twas also said that on his birth,_

 _the goddess Aphrodite kissed his cheek, and secured his place forever in mortal_

 _memory._

 _Blessed by Aphrodite's divine touch, he grew into such a man that no woman could_

 _deny him her body. For when it came to the Art of Love, he knew no equal—his_

 _stamina far beyond that of any mere mortal man. His desires hot and wild, he could_

 _never be tamed._

 _Or denied._

 _Golden in skin and hair, and flashing the eyes of a warrior, 'twas said his presence_

 _alone was oft enough to satisfy women, and once touched by his hand they would_

 _become blinded by pleasure._

 _None could stand against his charm._

 _And so out of jealousy came a curse to endure. One that can never be broken._

 _Like poor Tantalus, 'tis his plight to forever seek his satisfaction, and never fulfil it._

 _To yearn for his summoner's touch and to bring about her complete and utter_

 _pleasure and satiation._

 _From full moon to full moon, he will lie with her, make love to her, until he is again_

 _forced from this world._

 _But beware, for once his touch is felt, it is branded into his lover's memory. No other_

 _man shall ever satisfy her again. Because no mere mortal male can compare to a_

 _man, of such beauty. Such heat. Such intrepid sensuality._

 _Behold the cursed._

 _Julian of Macedon._

 _Hold him to your breast and call for him three times on the wings of midnight under_

 _the weight of a full moon's light. He will come to you then, and until the next full_

 _moon cycle, his body will be yours to command._

 _His only goal will be to please you, to serve you._

 _To savour you._

 _In his arms, you will learn true paradise._

As the moon rose, full and bright, Anraí carefully sank his magic into the scroll. He could not summon his friend, but he could ease his suffering. He knew Julian was always aware and so he gave him the escape of sleep and dreams, it was all he could do. Three days later he slipped the scroll to a young woman who he thought could use Julian's company, a whisper of magic ensuring she would be able to read how to summon him.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harri frowned as he spotted child size footprints in the deep snow, the mornings storm was only worsening as sunset approached and those footsteps were heading away from any shelter. He secured his cloak and headed off after them, they couldn't be too far ahead of him with the rate the snow was falling. He'd been walking for only a few minutes when he heard the thin wail of a baby over the wind. He began running and then saw the small figure struggling to walk. He reached out, scooping up the child and the baby in its arm, tucking them close to his chest and under his cloak. He felt the child stiffen as he turned back to his hut. "Easy young one, I will not harm you. I need to get you out of this storm." He spoke quietly before gently sending them both into sleep, wrapping them all in magic so he could move far faster. He got back to his hut and quickly had the fire roaring as he unwrapped the two, finding a young boy no more than eight years old and a baby girl. He stripped them out of the frozen clothing and went to work slowly warming them up. He knew illness had been plaguing the nearby villages and it was easy to assume these children were the sole survivors of their family and had nowhere to live with their parent's dead.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

The last thing Speirr was expecting was to wake up feeling warm. He sat up quickly to find he was lying before a fire in a pile of blankets. He froze as he saw a stranger in a chair opposite him, Ceara in his arms, drinking from a skin as the man rocked her gently. The man glanced up and smiled softly at him.

"Hello," he greeted and Speirr carefully got out of the blankets, finding he'd been dressed in an oversized tunic.

"Who are you?"

"Harri, I was gathering wood and came across your footsteps in the snow. You are lucky I found you, you would not have made it much further in that storm."

"Thank you, sir," he bowed slightly. "Is Ceara alright? I tried but I couldn't get her to drink the goats' milk." Speirr moved closer and the man leant down to let him see her better. He reached out and gently stroked a soft, warm cheek.

"It seems that cow's milk is what she wants."

"I couldn't afford that," he admitted, ashamed.

"What were you doing out in the storm?" the man, Harri, asked and Speirr looked down at his sister.

"My uncle is King Idiag, I was hoping he would at least take in Ceara."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Well, that explained a lot. Even he had heard the story of the Druid High Priest and Celtic Queen who had been banished for their love. Harri gently burped the baby and then settled her in the bed he'd made for her out of an old chest. Speirr was immediately at her side and Harri smiled to see such devotion between siblings. "Well you will not make it until spring at the soonest, you cannot travel in winter."

"We have nowhere else to go," Speirr denied.

"You will stay here, feeding two extra mouths will not be a problem."

"But we cannot pay…"

Harri shook his head. "I am not asking for payment lad, I will not send you out there to die in the snow. If you feel the need to repay me then you can help with the chores."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Speirr stared at the man, feeling lost. No one ever wanted to help them. It just did not make sense that a perfect stranger would be willing to house and feed them for months. "Why?"

"Because I was once where you are, although without a sibling to care for, and a wonderful family took me in as one of them. Now I can do for you what they did for me," he answered, reaching over to ruffle Speirr's hair, startling him. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes sir," he answered warily and then watched as a bowl of thick, hearty stew was dished up and handed over along with some fresh bread. Speirr swallowed and took it. "Thank you." He forced himself to eat slowly, knowing better than to eat too quickly.

"Get some more sleep," Harri said once Speirr was done eating and he was feeling sleepy with a full stomach and the warmth in the room.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harri watched the children sleep, how could anyone have turned them out in the dead of winter? It was as good as murder. He had not met King Idiag, but he had heard of him, he was a hard man but said to be fair. Would he take his sisters children in? they would spend the winter safe under his roof and come spring he would take them to their Uncle himself and see what happened. If the man denied them then he would keep them with him, he could not just abandon children. He had missed out so much of his own children's lives, off fighting Rome, raising someone else's children did not bother him at all.

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Harri laughed as Speirr gently danced around the room with Ceara in his arms. They'd both put on weight and gained a healthy glow over the last months. Speirr had not trusted him easily but Harri had expected no less and simply continued to treat them kindly. Now the boy would laugh and play freely in his presence. Harri glanced out the window, the snow had begun to melt and soon it would be safe to travel, ending his time with them if their Uncle said yes. He had begun to dread it, not wanting to let them go. Perhaps it was time he moved?

 _TBC…_

 _I nearly had Harry summon Julian but decided I like my ideas for their modern meeting better._


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: Not mine_

 _Covering some events from Talon's book now._

 _I have gone back and edited this chapter as it had a lot of errors, I think o caught them all._

 **Chapter 14**

Harri led Speirr into the hall, Ceara on his own hip as he walked towards the man at the end. They were windblown and wet due to getting caught in the sudden spring storm that was still raging as the night deepened. He bowed slightly to the King and his Queen. "Greetings King Idiag and Queen Ora."

"What brings you to our Halls traveller?"

"I am merely escorting your nephew and niece," he offered calmly, and whispers immediately broke out, eyes locking onto the two children.

"So the son of the whore has returned to beg you, my king, for his shelter. Tell me, King Idiag, should I cut off his head, or just slit his nostrils and then turn this pitiful wretch out into the storm to die like the worthless dung he is?" a man called, and Harri heard them laugh even as Speirr shifted closer to him and Harri stared the King down, magic surging in case he needed to defend them.

"Look at him, Idiag, he's pitiful and weak like his father before him. He'll never be anything. You might as well let us kill him now and spare the food to nurture a better child."

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Idiag stared at Speirr for so long that he was sure his uncle would send them to their deaths. The fire in the hall had crackled while the people held their collective breath, waiting for their king to pronounce judgment.

In that moment, Speirr hated his mother, hated her for making him beg for his sister's life. For making him suffer when he was just an untried lad who wanted only to run away and hide from his humiliation. But he had made a promise and he never broke his word. Without his Uncle's help, another sister would die because they had nowhere else to go. Harri had been kind to them, but there was no way the man would agree to take them on, even if Speirr worked for him in some way. The man was a Healer, how could Speirr be useful enough to him to pay for not only himself but his sister?

When Idiag finally spoke, his eyes were blank, unfeeling. "No, Parth," he said to his guard. "He has suffered much to travail the winter's harshness to reach us. We will give them shelter. Summon a wet nurse for the babe."

Speirr wanted to collapse in relief at his Uncle's words, his sister would be cared for.

"And the boy?"

"If he survives the punishment his mother ran away from, then he will be allowed to stay here as well."

"Punishment?" Harri finally spoke up. "You would hold a child to blame for the actions of his parents? What a brave King you are," his tone had turned mocking at the last and there were gasps of shock and outrage.

Speirr hid a wince as his Uncle stood, hand on his sword, the two men staring at each other and then his Uncle stepped back slightly, shocking every. He glanced up at the man who had sheltered them…had his eyes been glowing? He heard the sudden whispers of awe and fear as the men all backed down.

"The boy can stay," Idiag said and Harri nodded.

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Speirr was walking towards the wood where Harri had built his house, away from the village and yet easy to get to. He paused as he heard a commotion, torn, but he finally turned and headed towards the noise to see a girl being attacked and he moved in to protect her, sending the bird running.

"Are you a prince?" the girl asked, and he looked away.

"I am nothing," he answered.

"Nae, my lord, you are a prince. Only one so noble would brave the fearsome rooster to save a peasant." She smiled at him and he stared before slowly smiling back at her.

"I am Speirr," he finally spoke, offering his name.

"Nynia, my lord."

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Harri smiled as Speirr bent over his lessons, at eleven he was growing like a weed. He spent most of his time training as a warrior but Harri insisted he learn to use his brain as well, teaching him to read and write in Greek and Latin as well as his native tongue, as well as mathematics and history. Four years of living with his Mother's people and Speirr was still looked down on. Ceara had it better, their Aunt doted on her and even the King softened some around the happy child. She loved her big brother more than any other and for some reason loved walking in circles around him, making them both dizzy. Speirr was a serious child, always struggling to gain his Uncle's approval, and Harri hoped one day he would have it.

He had remained to ensure the children remained self and had become part-time healer and teacher to those who lived in the village. He gave lessons to children for free and one of his students was young Nynia. The two children had bonded instantly when they had met three years before. He doubted a union between them would be allowed when they were older since she was the daughter of the fishmonger and he was the King's nephew. But for now they were just lonely children who needed a friend and he could help ensure that.

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Speirr laughed and gathered up snow to throw back at her as they ran around the loch, it was their place, no adults to disapprove of their actions. Harri was the only one that encouraged rather than tried to push him down. His Uncle paid him more attention now as he gained height, muscle and skill. He had yet to go out with the warriors, but he would soon.

In a few short years he would be expected to marry as well and with his rising status it was likely his marriage would be to make an alliance. He hated the very thought, he loved one girl and he would always love her.

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Harri gently washed fever hot skin with water and healing herbs, letting a little magic pool into the teens skin, speeding his healing. The intricate tattoo the King had spent days creating in Speirr's skin had become infected, despite the precautions taken. Harri had ensured he had drunk plenty of pain dulling herbs, but they had not taken it all from the teen, despite that he had refused to cry out while under the needle, after each session the skin had been bathed in herbs and water to try and keep this from happening. Speirr was fifteen now, a warrior of growing reputation and yet the traditional tattooing may kill him. He had done his best to teach the people about hygiene, warning the king to clean and even heat the tools before every use but he didn't know how well the man had listened.

The door banged open and Nynia rushed in, looking horrified at the sight or Speirr lying on the bed, long blonde hair plastered to his skin, body burning with fever. She moved to his side and took up another cloth to help bathe him.

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The area around their loch was beautiful in late spring but neither teen was taking it in. Nynia was fearful of being caught and, at the same time, she ached with longing for him, just as he did for her. His eyes were a deep amber and dark with passion as he braced himself above her on one arm and unlaced the top of her gown with his free hand.

"I've wanted you forever, Nyn," he whispered as he lowered his head to kiss her revealed skin, causing her to moan in pleasure at the new sensation.

She'd never allowed a man to touch her before, never had allowed one to see her body. She was embarrassed, yet she still couldn't deny him, not when it gave him so much pleasure. Her mother had told her long ago about the needs and wants of men, about the way they planted themselves inside a woman and took possession of her. From that moment, she'd known she would never want any man but Speirr to take her that way. For him, she would do anything.

He lifted the hem of her dress up to her hips, baring her lower body to his warm, hungry gaze. She shivered as he nudged her legs apart so that he could look at the most private place of her body. Her instinct was to lock her ankles together, but she forced herself to comply. She opened herself for him and held her breath as he stared at her with so much longing that it made her ache. He traced his hand down her stomach, and outer thigh. He then began moving towards more intimate areas and she moaned at his touch, her head swimming at the strange feeling of him stroking and teasing her. He spread her legs wider, and moved to lie between them.

"Look at me, Nynia," he whispered, stroking her face tenderly and she opened her eyes to stare up at him, the love in his eyes scorched her. "It's not too late yet. Tell me you don't want me, and I will go away without any damage being done."

"I want you, Speirr," she whispered. "I only want you." This was her Prince, he had been for many years, before anyone else acknowledged what she had always known. He leaned down and kissed her tenderly, then slid himself inside her. She tensed at the pain he caused, bitting her lip and holding him close as he slowly rocked himself against her.

"You feel so good beneath me," he breathed, his voice a deep half-groan. "Even better than I thought you would."

"How many women have you had beneath you, Speirr?" She was horrified by her words, but wanted to know. He would always be the only one for her, but surely there were others more suited to his position out there.

He stopped moving inside her and pulled back to stare down into her eyes. "Only you, Nyn. I'm as virgin as you are. I've had other women offer themselves to me, but you're the only one I dream of holding."

Her heart soared. Smiling, she wrapped her legs around his lean, naked hips. She cupped his face in her hands and pulled him down to her until their noses touched.

"Oh, Speirr," she whispered, awed. She had not thought it possible to love him more than she already did, but apparently it was.

They spent hours on the shore before eventually reluctantly parting to return to their homes.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harri entered the house to see the midwife gently coaxing the young woman through another contraction. "You sent for me?" he called, and the woman looked at him in relief.

"The babe won't turn, she cannot birth it in the position it is," she explained and Harri nodded, quickly washing his hands before joining her next to the expectant mother.

"Just relax and breath," he soothed her, and she nodded, bright blond hair plastered to her face even as her husband held her, his fear obvious. Harri gently checked himself and winced, the baby was in the breech position. "I am going to try and turn the babe by pressing on your stomach. It will be uncomfortable and may hurt but it is necessary," he warned and then placed his hands before beginning to apply pressure.

Four hours later he left the house, tired but happy. The couple within were exhausted but they had a healthy son and that was all that mattered to them. He did wonder what Madam Pomphrey would think of him working as a healer sometimes. She would probably pull her hair out in dismay considering he was always in the ward as a patient and not to learn.

He was well settled into life in the town, even though things were still frosty between him and the King. It didn't bother him; the man had wanted to whip and starve a child all over his Mother marrying his Father. There had been other times too where he had to step in to stop not just Speirr but other children being beaten. That was not something he could stand for. A light smack or two, fine, but beating was going far too far.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

He held himself above her as he moved tenderly in and out of her body, his heart breaking. "Oh, precious Nyn," he breathed in her ear. "How can I leave you?"

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, then forced him back so that she could look into his amber eyes as he made love to her. "You've no choice, Speirr. You've fought too hard and suffered too much to be heir not to do this. This will ensure that the clan will take you as their king when your uncle dies."

"I know," he answered, anguished by the thought of leaving her. They loved each other so much, they always had.

He had been the hero of her heart. They'd grown up mostly apart and yet never parted. Even as children, they had known their friendship would be stopped or ridiculed, and Speirr had suffered enough ridicule to last ten thousand lifetimes. So they had never told anyone of the times when they would sneak away from their famines and duties to be together. Harri knew and he even helped ensure they had time together, his home a haven from the cruel world. He scoffed at the idea of Speirr being forced to marry someone of his station, for peace, but he could afford to scoff. Healers did as they pleased, and many remained unmarried to devote themselves wholly to their work.

For years their meetings had been innocent. Meeting to play a game or to fish after lessons. Sometimes to swim, or to share the heartbreaks they felt. It had only been during this last year that they had dared touch each other's bodies. Speirr had never treated her as the others did due to her station. He needed to marry another to erase the taint his mother had left with him, to prove to everyone that he was noble in blood as well as in spirit. No matter how much it broke both of their hearts to be parted.

"You will make a fine husband, Speirr. She is lucky to have you," she whispered, trying to be happy for him.

"Don't," he said, holding her tighter. "I don't want to think of anyone else while I'm with you. Just hold me, Nyn. Let me pretend for one moment that I'm not my mother's son. Let me pretend that there's only you and I in the world and no one and nothing to ever separate us," he pleaded brokenly. He pulled back to look down at her, cupping her face tenderly. "You are the only warmth in my heart. The only sunshine my winter has ever known." To the rest of the world he must always be fierce and strong, a fighter of unquestionable prowess and skill. Only with her could he truly let himself be soft and gentle.

"And you are my fire," she breathed. "And if you don't go off and meet with your uncle now, he'll extinguish you."

He cursed as he pulled away from her. He moved to dress, letting her help lace him back into his armour. He was a prince and he hated it, but his position bought Ceara a better future. After she was dressed, he pulled her into his arms and gave her one last scorching kiss. "Meet me tonight?"

She looked away. "If you wish it, Speirr. I will do anything you ask, but I don't think it will be fair to your new wife to meet you on your wedding night."

He flinched as if she'd slapped him. "You're right, Nyn. Most of all, it wouldn't be fair to you." Speirr was heartbroken as he watched Nynia step out of his embrace. The pain inside him was so intense that he feared it would cripple him. He reached his hand out for her, knowing she was gone. Lost. Lost to him forever, just as his mother had been. Just as his sisters and father were. Gods, it was so unfair. But then, life was never fair. Especially not to a man who had duties and responsibilities. A man who had to force respect for himself and his sister at the point of his sword. His life had never been his own. Sometimes he wondered if life would have been better had their Uncle turned them away and Harri had raised them or found someone who did not know their parentage to do so. That boy would have been free to marry as he wished.

He forced himself to turn away from her, to mount his horse and ride to meet his aunt and uncle so that they could finalize the marriage between their clan and the Gaulish-Celt tribe that bordered them to the north. The marriage would finally silence the tongues of the gossips and doomsayers who wanted someone else to be named heir. He rode to where he was to meet them and dismounted, joining his Aunt and Uncle in the middle of the wooden hall. The room was crowded with people who were strangers to the three of them, everyone dressed in fine plaids and gold jewellery.

Speirr's uncle was dressed in black leather armour and his aunt in gold armour with a long, plaid skirt. To the people gathered there, Speirr looked strong and proud, fierce and princely. The Gauls' whispered voices echoed in the room as they retold stories of his prowess in battle, told each other that he was the Morrigan's favoured warrior. It was said the goddess herself walked beside him in battle and dared anyone to mar his beauty or dull his sword.

What no one knew was that Speirr was ready to bolt as he waited to meet his bride.

"I swear, lad, you're as skittish as a colt," his aunt whispered with a laugh.

"You were too, Ora," his uncle teased her. "I remember your father threatened to tie you to his side if you didn't stop fidgeting while our parents bound us together."

"Aye, but I was much younger than he is." His aunt placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Speirr took a deep breath as a young woman was brought forward to stand before him.

"My daughter Deirdre," King Llewd said.

She was beautiful, Speirr could admit that. With hair as golden fair as any he'd ever seen and blue eyes that were kind and gentle. But she was no match for his Nynia, no other woman could ever come close to her. Speirr stepped back instinctively. His uncle pushed him forward. Deirdre smiled invitingly, her eyes warm and accepting. He stepped back again.

This time, his aunt nudged him toward his bride. "What have you to say to her, lad?"

"I..." Speirr knew the words that would bind them together. He'd rehearsed them incessantly, but now they lodged in in his throat. He couldn't breathe. He stepped back again, and again his aunt and uncle moved him forward, toward her and a destiny that seemed suddenly bleak. Cold.

"Speirr," his uncle said with a warning note in his voice. "Say the words."

Do it, or you will lose everything. Do it, and I will lose the only thing. In his mind, he saw the hurt in Nynia's eyes. Saw the tears she'd tried to hide. Speirr clenched his teeth, flexing his jaw with determination. "I willna do this." He whirled around and left the hall, hearing the shocked gasps as he made his way to the door and out into the village, gasping for air. He could not do this, no matter the consequences.

A few seconds later, his aunt and uncle came rushing out behind him. He was halfway to his horse when his uncle grabbed his arm and pulled him roughly to a stop.

"What is wrong with you?" he demanded.

"Speirr?" his aunt said in a gentler tone. "What is it?"

He looked back and forth between them, searching for the words to make them understand what was in his heart. "I willna marry her."

"Oh aye, you will," his uncle said sternly. His dark eyes snapped fire at him. "Now march yourself back in there and finish this."

"Nae," he said stubbornly. "I willna marry her while I love someone else."

"Who?" they asked in unison.

"Nynia," he admitted, waiting for their scorn even as they exchanged a deep frown.

"Who the blazes is Nynia?" his uncle asked.

"The fishmonger's daughter?" his aunt said, surprised.

The two questions came at him at once. Until his aunt's comment registered in his uncle's mind.

"The fishmonger's daughter?" he repeated. His uncle moved to pop him on the back of his head, but Speirr caught his hand and glared at him. His days of being hit by his uncle were long over. "Are you mad?" his uncle demanded, wrenching his arm free. "How do you even know her?"

Speirr tensed, expecting his uncle's condemnation. No doubt they would finally banish him from their clan just as they had done his mother. None of that mattered. Nynia was one of three people who had ever really accepted him. Ceara and Harri were the other two and he knew Harri would take him in if he was banished, the man cared nothing for his Uncle's demands. He would not fail her by marrying someone else while she had to go back to the misery of her life. He refused to grow old without her. "I know you don't understand, and I know I should just go and marry the Gaul's daughter, but I can't." He looked at his aunt, hoping someone would understand his plight. "I love Nynia. I don't want to live without her."

"You are young and foolish," his uncle said. "Just like your mother, you let your heart rule you. If you fail to do this, you will never live down your mother's shame. You will be seen as nothing more than a ridiculed whoreson. Now get back in that hall and marry Deirdre. Now!"

"Nae," he said firmly.

"So help me, Speirr, fail to do this and I will see you banished for it."

"Then banish me."

"Nae," his aunt said, intruding on their argument. She held that distant, faraway look that she got whenever she saw through the natural world into a higher level. "The gods are at work here, Idiag. Look into his eyes. Nynia is his soulmate. They are meant to be together."

His uncle cursed. "This would have been a great alliance for our clan," he muttered bitterly. "It would have ensured peace between our peoples and guaranteed that no one would have contested Speirr as my heir. But I won't argue with the will of the gods." He patted Speirr on the arm, calmer now that he knew the gods were at work. "Go, Speirr. Go claim your Nynia while I try and salvage what I can from this meeting and hopefully avert a war."

Speirr blinked in disbelief. It was the first time in his life that his uncle had ever been kind or merciful toward him. "Do you mean it?"

He narrowed his eyes at him. "Lad, you'd best be off before common sense returns to me."

Speirr shouted as he raced for his horse. Then he ran back and hugged his aunt, then his uncle. "Thank you. Thank you both." As fast as he could, he ran to his horse and jumped up onto the back of it. He set his heels into its flanks and headed toward their own lands.

Speirr tore through the forest at a dead run. His black stallion flew through the tangled underbrush and weeds, kicking up dirt in their wake. The sunlight drifted through the trees, dappling his armour as he urged the horse faster.

He had to reach his Nynia...

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Nynia sighed as her mother handed her the tattered old basket that held ten nasty-smelling fish. "Must I deliver this?" she asked her mother, her voice pleading for clemency. She did little work for her parents now, Harri was teaching her to be a healer and she much preferred it to the stench of fish.

"Your brother is off on an errand and they be wanting it. Now go, child. I'll brook no more arguments from you."

Nynia clenched her teeth as she took the basket. How she hated this. She would rather be beaten than travel to the smith's home where Eala would no doubt be waiting to take her delivery. Her own age, Eala was the smith's daughter but she acted as if she were descended from a line as noble as Speirr's. Once she was fully trained as a Healer the other girl would not be able to look down on her. Healing was a noble art and Healers were sought out by the wealthy. She would be able to support herself and perhaps leave one day, should she prove unable to watch Speirr live with a family.

Today, Nynia was in no mood for Eala's attempts to humiliate her, not while her heart was so sore from its loss. By now her Speirr would be married to another. He would be lost to her forever.

Blinking back tears, she left the tiny hut she shared with her mother, father, and brother, and headed for the nicer side of the village where the rest of the people resided, upwind from the fishmonger, tanner, and butcher. Once she had steady work as a Healer, she would move to the nicer side of the village herself and finally be rid of the stench of fish for good.

"Oh, Speirr," she whispered as she wiped away her tears. How could she make it through a single day without him? All her life she'd had him to see her through the misery of her life. She'd always looked forward to their meetings, looked forward to sharing laughter and fun with him down by the loch. Now those days were gone forever.

When he returned, it would be with a new wife. One day, his queen would bear his children...

Pain assailed her even more. Nynia walked aimlessly through the village, her thoughts on the only man she would ever love and on the fact that she would never bear his children. Never be able to hold him again.

She drew near the smith's cottage and saw Eala wasn't alone today. She stood with a small group of friends, talking. She recognized three of the boys, and the girls would have been her friends, too, had she, as they so often reminded her, not smelled of fish. Then again, she smelt far less of fish due to her time spent training with Harri and their attitudes towards her had not changed at all. Perhaps they were just mean and spiteful?

"Oh bother," Eala said disgustedly. "It's the fish girl with her fetid stench. Quick, everyone, hold your breath or you'll turn blue."

Nynia lifted her chin. They couldn't hurt her with their words. Not today. She was hurt enough. She shoved the basket into Eala's hands.

Eala shrieked. "You're vile, Nynia!" she shouted, dropping the basket and dancing away from it. "No man will ever want so smelly a woman. Will he, Dearg?"

Dearg turned a speculative eye on Nynia. "I don't know. From what we saw her giving to Speirr the other day, I'd be willing to hold my nose."

Her face on fire, Nynia was horrified that someone had stumbled upon her and Speirr while they were making love in the woods.

"What say you, Aberth?" Dearg asked another handsome youth.

"Aye. She'd be good for a tup or two, especially since she's sheathed a strong sword, but you can marry her if you're like Speirr and common filth is to your taste. I'd rather not."

Their mean laughter rang in her ears. Humiliated and embarrassed, Nynia had started away from them when she caught the sound of a horse approaching at a dead run.

Everyone in the village grew quiet at the sound. It was obvious the rider was in a dire hurry. His thick, deep voice could be heard urging the horse onward toward the village. The instant Speirr came flying out of the woods, people scattered out of his way.

Nynia couldn't move as she watched him.

He had his head bent low, and both he and the horse were covered in sweat. United in power, beauty, and form, the two of them were a fierce and frightening sight to behold. They flew as if the demons of Annwn were hot on their heels.

She expected him to keep riding past her, toward his home. He didn't. Instead, Speirr reined his horse in sharply before her, the fierce beast rearing and pawing at the air. He jumped from his saddle and swept her up into his arms.

Her heart pounded with joy, but she was scared of this, scared of what his dishevelled appearance here meant." Fiu?" she asked hesitantly, using the proper term for prince, knowing that with so many witnesses, she could never call him by his given name. "What is it you would have of me?"

His amber eyes were shiny and bright and filled with his heart as he stared at her. "I would have you, my love," he breathed. "Every day for the rest of my life. I've come to marry you, Nyn. If you'll have me."

Tears filled her eyes. "Your uncle?"

"He wishes us well and will meet you when he returns," he promised with a smile and her hands shook as she held him tight. "You are mine, precious Nyn," he whispered. "I want no other in my life."

"Even though I smell like a fish?"

He laughed at that. "And I smell like a sweaty horse. We're a perfect pair, you and I."

Only he would say such a thing. Tears rolled down her face as she held him close and wept from happiness. Her Speirr had come back to her and she would never let him go. They were meant to be together. Forever...

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Harri smiled as he watched Speirr and Nynia finally wed. He was beyond happy for them and a glance to his side showed Ceara was in tears of joy. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she leant against him before he swept her up onto his shoulders so she could see better, making her laugh and chide him that she was too old for such things but compared to full Hoplite armour she was as light as a feather. They sat at the head table for the wedding feast, the first time he had ever been invited to do so, but Idiag could not deny it when Speirr had insisted. Without Harri, the wedding would never have happened. He had encouraged them to keep hope, he was the only reason Speirr had even survived to reach the village.

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His throat tight, he watched her sitting before his hearth, her belly distended with his child while she sewed clothes for the baby. Even after five years of marriage and a lifetime of friendship, she was able to stir his blood and make his heart swell with love. She alone had made him feel loved. He knew Harri cared deeply for them, but it was not the same.

He listened to her hum the same lullaby his mother had once sung to him when he was a very small child. Gods, how he needed her, now more than ever before. He was weary of fighting, weary of the demands his people had placed upon him since the death of his uncle. Weary of hearing the whispers about his mother and father.

He was a young man, but tonight he felt ancient and cold. Until he looked at Nynia, she warmed him deep inside and made everything better. How he loved her for it. Moving forward, he sank down in front of her chair and placed his head in her lap. He wrapped his arms around her as he was wont to do and felt the baby kick his arm in protest.

"You've returned," she said gently, brushing her hand through his hair.

He didn't speak. He couldn't. Normally he would have bathed the blood from his armour and body before he sought her out, but the grief of the day was still too raw in his heart. He needed to feel her gentle, soothing touch on his body, needed to know that for the moment she was safe and still with him. Only she could ease the aching pain inside his heart.

His aunt was dead. Mutilated. He'd found the body when he'd gone to look for her after she didn't show up for the midday meal. Harri had been with him, but it was too late for even him to aide her. All they could do was return with her body, ensuring wild animals could not desecrate her body further. If he lived an eternity, he would never forget the grisly sight. It would live inside him along with the memory of his mother dying in his arms.

"It's the gods' curse," Parth had whispered earlier that evening, not knowing Speirr was close enough to hear him speak to his brother. "He is the whore's son. She lay with a Druid to beget a cursed lineage and now we'll all pay for it. The gods will punish us all."

"Do you wish to challenge Speirr's sword for leadership?"

"Only a fool would challenge one such as he. Not even Cuchulainn could equal him."

"Then you'd best pray to the gods that he never hears you."

Speirr clenched his eyes shut, trying to dampen the whispers that had haunted him all the days of his life.

"Speirr?" Nynia stroked his face. "Are they all slain?"

He nodded. After he had brought his aunt home, he had gathered his men and ridden after the Northern Gaul tribe. He'd found one of their daggers near her body and had known instantly they were responsible. Harri had tried to stop him, to speak words of calm, to wait and see, but he had needed to avenge her.

"I really am cursed, Nyn." The words stuck in his throat. After a lifetime of trying to prove to others that he wasn't cursed for his parents' actions, he was now cursed because of his own. "I should have listened to you when my uncle died. I should never have taken vengeance against the Northern clan. I should have waited as Harri said. Now all I can do is fear what their gods will take from me next."

But in his heart, he already knew. There was nothing on earth more precious than the woman he held. She was going to die, because of him. It was all his fault. All of it. He alone had brought the wrath of the Northern clan's gods down upon their heads. There was no way to stop it, no way to keep her by his side. The pain of it was more than he could bear. "I have offered up sacrifices to the Morrigan, but the Druids tell me it isn't enough. What more can I do?"

"Maybe this is the last. Maybe it will end now."

He hoped so. The alternative... Nae, he couldn't lose his Nynia. Their gods could have anything but her...

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harri sat outside Speirr's home; eyes closed as he carefully wove his magic over the dwelling. Spells for peace, good health, an easy birth, everything he could. He had warned the boy to stay his hand, to wait, but he had gone after vengeance and now he was cursed by a god. Would his magic be enough to protect them? He had never faced a god before, he knew he would not die if he did so, but could he stop one? He was Master of Death and all things died, even the gods…did that mean he could actually kill one? He doubted the Morrigan would mind if he did, he knew she disliked Camulus. Who had killed Idiag and Ora and implicated Llewd? Perhaps if he found out he could redirect Camulus' rage onto them and save Speirr and Nyn. He had been planning to move on, leave Nynia as Healer in his place, he had been here as long as was safe, but he would not leave them to face this alone. Besides, the tribe knew he was no normal mortal, his lack of aging did not surprise them at all. The local gods were active enough that they had children among the population though there were none here.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Speirr held his wife as she laboured to bring their baby into the world. They were both covered in sweat from the fire and hours of exertion. The midwife had opened a window and let in a cool breeze from the snow that was falling outside. Nynia had always loved the snow, and the weather had given them both hope that maybe everything would work out. Maybe the baby would be a new chance for all of them.

"Push!" the woman ordered.

Nynia's fingernails bit into his arms as she gripped him and screamed. Speirr placed his cheek to hers, holding her close and whispering into her ear. "I've got you, my love. I'll never let you go," he swore, hand reaching for his sword as the door slammed open only to sigh in relief as Harri appeared.

Harri took in the scene in seconds and moved to the midwife's side, talking quietly with her as Nynia panted for breath. He had been out in the countryside, hunting herbs that bloomed with the first snow and it had taken time for the messenger to find him. Harri placed a hand over her womb and closed his eyes, seeing with senses beyond them. No one knew how Harri did what he did, he was no Druid, but he held otherworldly powers that had kept them safe.

Nynia groaned deep and then relaxed as their son rushed out from inside her, into the hands of the midwife. She laughed as he kissed her cheek and hugged her tight.

But their joy was cut short as the child refused to respond to the old woman's attempts to wake him. Harri moved to her and took the child in his arms, murmuring softly over the small body before looking up at them, eyes focusing on something Speirr could not see, so he leant forward and paled as he saw the amount of blood on the bedding. "Camulus' curse runs strong. I can save only one and you must choose swiftly. Know that there will be no more children. I am so sorry," he whispered, voice choked by grief.

Nynia wept in his arms. "I am so sorry, Speirr, that I couldn't give you your son. I didn't mean to fail you."

"You didn't fail me, Nyn. You could never fail me." Horrified and heartbroken, Speirr held Nynia close as Harri held their son. He couldn't take his gaze from the babe. His son had ten tiny fingers, ten perfect toes. A mop of thick, black hair. His face was beautiful and serene. Perfect. Too still in Harri's hands and yet he said the babe could be saved...but then Nyn would die. How could he chose?"

"Our son, save our son," she whispered.

"Nyn…no…" he begged, and she smiled up at him.

There was no reason why the child should not be alive and well. No reason other than the fact that Speirr was a fool. He had killed his own son. Tears welled in his eyes. How many times had he held his hand over Nynia's stomach and felt the strength of his son's movements? Felt the loving pride of a father? They had marked the days to the baby's birth. Had shared their hopes and dreams for him.

"I am so sorry, Speirr," Nynia murmured over and over again, weeping.

He tightened his arms around her and whispered words of comfort. He had to be strong for her. She needed him now.

Kissing her cheek, Speirr forced his tears away and offered her solace. "It's all right, my love. We'll have more children." But in his heart, he knew the truth. The god Camulus would never permit a child of his to live, and Speirr would never again put Nynia through this. He loved her too much.

She shook her head, she had heard Harri's words and she knew them to be true, something within her was damaged from the birth. She looked at her son and reached for him and Harri moved so she could see him. "Please….save him," she whispered.

"Nyn…"

"You will raise our son and tell him I loved him with all my heart, my beloved Speirr," she whispered, and he bowed his head, unable to say no.

Harri nodded and they all felt the power flow through the house, focusing on the child who suddenly began to cry. Harri wrapped him well and then handed him to the grief stricken parents. Harri kissed Nynia's forehead and she smiled sadly at him. "There will be no pain," he promised before standing. "I will leave you for now," he left the home to find the midwife gone. He sat down, not bothered by the cold and snow as he waited for what he knew was coming. He closed his eyes and fought back tears. If he had ridden with Speirr that day, could he have stopped all of this? The babe would live, Camulus would not touch him, but that protection did not extend to Ceara and he knew the young girl was the next obvious target.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Speirr was still holding her an hour later when all the colour had faded from her face. Nynia was dying from blood loss. Harri had done all he could, he had saved their beautiful son, but at such a cost. Nynia was leaving him. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't function. She was dying. Speirr had picked Nynia up and cradled her against him even as she clutched their son to her breast. He was covered in her blood, but he didn't even notice. All he could think of was keeping her with him, making her well. Live for me! He willed his own life force into her body, but it wasn't enough. Silently, he bargained with the gods to take anything else-his life, his lands, his people. Anything. Just leave him his heart, he needed it too much to lose it like this.

"I love you, Speirr," she whispered softly.

He choked, trying not to cry. "You can't leave me, Nyn," he whispered as she shivered in his arms. "I don't know what to do without you."

"You will take care of Ceara as you promised your mother. You will raise our son to be a good man." She swallowed as she traced his lips with her cold hand. "My brave Speirr. Always strong and giving. I shall wait for you on the other side until Bran brings us together again."

He closed his eyes as tears seeped past his control. "I can't live without you, Nyn. I can't."

"You must, Speirr. Our people need you. Our son needs you. Ceara needs you."

"And I need you," he whispered, kissing her forehead.

She swallowed and looked up at him, her eyes full of fear. "I'm scared, Speirr. I don't want to die. I feel so cold. I've never gone anywhere without you before."

"I'll keep you warm." He pulled more furs over her and rubbed her arms. If he could just keep her warm, she would stay with him. He knew she would... If he could just keep her warm.

"Why is it getting dark?" she asked, her voice trembling. "I don't want it to be dark yet. I just want to hold you for a little while longer."

"I'll hold you, Nyn. Don't worry, love. I have you."

She placed her hand against his cheek as a single tear fell. "I wish I had been the wife you deserved, Speirr. I wish I could have given you all the children you wanted."

Before he could speak, he felt it. The last expulsion of breath from her body before she went limp in his arms. Enraged and heartsick, Speirr threw his head back and gave his battle cry as pain tore through him. Tears fell down his face. Startled and scared the babe began to cry and he was forced to reach out and take his son as her arms slipped from around him. He rocked his son and glared up at the heavens. "Why!" he roared at the gods. "Damn you, Camulus. Why! Why couldn't you just kill me and have left her in peace?" As expected, no one answered. The Morrigan had abandoned him, left him alone to face this pain.

He paid no attention to the door opening, to gentle voice and hands as he was drawn from the bed and over to the fire. When he could focus again he found he and the babe were clean of her blood, the bed too was clean and she lay on top, dressed for…for her burial. Harri sat beside him quietly, holding out a bottle of milk and he took it slowly, his son needed him, he would live for him, for Ceara, it was what Nynia had wanted.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harri helped Speirr dig the grave beside the loch and then held the babe as Speirr lowered her body into it. He felt a familiar presence and smiled sadly as his Mother stood beside him, she could do nothing for the young woman in the grave, she was not Greek after all. He had done all he could to ensure her soul found peace.

"I'm sorry," Hecate whispered as she gently hugged her son, feeling his grief for the young woman. She wished she could do something, but that would mean fighting Camulus and should she do that it could begin a war between pantheons, something the world would not be able to take. She faded away as Speirr re-joined Harri and took his son in his arms.

"Have you chosen a name?"

"Harri," Speirr managed a small, sad smile. "It was her choice, for all you have done for us."

"I am honoured," Harri returned the small smile and then guided him away from the new grave. "Come, the cold is not good for such a young child. You will stay with me tonight," it would not be good for him to return to their home just yet. He would look after them until Speirr could function and lead his people.

 _TBC…_


End file.
